Fairytales
by Chelles
Summary: She had always wanted to believe in fairytales, but she had learned that they weren't true. She knew that she wasn't a princess. Yet, somehow, when he looked at her, she felt like one.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello! Before you begin, I'd like to thank you for reading my story. I'd really appreciate a review, too – this is my first CSI piece, and I'd like to know what you think of it.

Thanks again!

I don't own the CSI series or characters. I don't even own Cinderella.

* * *

_Prologue_

Sara Sidle's favorite time of day was bedtime. She loved the simplicity of sleep. When she was asleep, there were no shouting voices. When she was asleep, there were no flying fists. When she was asleep, no one could hurt her or her mother.

But, even more than sleeping, she loved getting ready for bed. She loved brushing her teeth, changing into her pajamas and climbing into her bed. She loved snuggling under the covers and waiting for her mother to come in and read her a story. It was a ritual that Laura Sidle had started when her daughter was a newborn, and one that even her husband knew never to disturb. Sara's bedtime story was the one thing in their lives that was truly sacred.

Sara only ever waited a few moments from when she got into bed until her mother would come into her room. She would smile at Sara and take a book off her teeming bookshelf.

"Let's see," she would say every night. "Shall we read a story?"

"Yes!" Sara would exclaim.

Although Sara had hundreds of books spanning every literary genre, her mother would only read one kind of story at night. She would read anything to her daughter all day long, but she insisted that only fairytales be read before bed. Sara loved to be read to – it didn't matter what was being read – so she never complained.

"What story shall we read tonight?" Laura asked her six-year-old daughter.

Sara scrunched up her face in thought. "One with a princess."

"Most of them have princesses," Laura replied, scanning the books on the shelf. "Shall we read about Cinderella?"

"Okay," Sara agreed.

Laura sat down on Sara's bed, snuggling her little girl close. She began to read, her voice changing pitch with each different character. Sara laid her head on her mother's shoulder, watching the pictures and words fly by. She reached up to twist her fingers in her mother's hair, another part of their nightly ritual.

"And they lived happily ever after," Laura finished. She kissed the top of Sara's head. "You like that story, don't you?"

"Yes," Sara said. She looked at her mother for a minute. "Is that what it's like for other little girls?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, is that what it's like for little girls who have sisters? Do they have to clean their houses while their sisters just sit around?"

"I don't know. I never had a sister," Laura said. "Maybe it is like that for some little girls. Would you like to live like that?"

Sara looked thoughtful, then shook her head. "I wouldn't want to be Cinderella. Her mom was mean to her."

"Her mother had died," Laura reminded her. "That was her stepmother who was so mean."

"She didn't have a mommy?"

"She did at one time."

"And her daddy was dead, too."

"Yes," Laura agreed.

Sara's brows knitted together. "Did her daddy hit her mommy?"

Laura's eyes widened. "What? Why would you think that?"

"Because that's what daddies do."

Tears filled Laura's eyes. "Sara, you listen to me. Not everyone lives like that. Daddies aren't supposed to hit mommies."

"But, Daddy hits you."

"That doesn't mean it's right."

"Then, why does he do it?"

Laura sighed, playing with Sara's hair as she held her close. "Because he doesn't know any better. His daddy never taught him the right thing to do."

"You should teach him," Sara said simply. "I'll tell him, if you want."

"No!" Laura said quickly. "No," she said again, this time gently. "I'll … I'll take care of Daddy, Sara."

She nodded, her confidence in her mother never wavering. "All right."

"And, Sara – you need to understand something."

"What?"

"This isn't the life you're going to have forever. You're going to be much happier than this someday. Someday, when you're older, your prince will come and rescue you from this life, the same way Prince Charming rescued Cinderella."

"Did your prince rescue you?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. But, it wasn't the same. I wasn't a princess like you are."

Sara giggled. "I'm not a princess, Mommy."

"Yes, you are," Laura said, hugging her close and kissing the top of her head. "You're _my_ princess."

"Does that mean that you're a queen?"

"No," Laura sighed. "It just means that you're a princess."

"Then, I'll be a queen someday."

"I'm sure you will," Laura smiled.

"And when I'm the queen, I'll make sure that daddies can't hit mommies – or little girls."

Tears filled Laura's eyes again, this time sliding down her cheeks. "I know you will, baby. You can do anything you set your mind to."

"I want to make sure that no one gets hurt."

"No one will, if you have anything to say about it." Laura kissed Sara again. "And, now, my little princess, I think it's time for you to go to sleep."

"Okay," Sara agreed, sliding down to rest her head on her pillow. "Mommy?"

Laura stopped with her hand on the light switch. "Yes, baby?"

"When will my prince come?"

"When you're all grown up," Laura said.

"Why do I have to wait so long?"

Laura stepped back over to her daughter's bed and brushed the little girl's dark hair back from her face. "Listen, Sara. There will be plenty of boys who will tell you that they're your prince. But, you make sure that you wait until you've found the real one before you believe him. Not every boy is a prince, and not every boy will rescue you. Do you understand?"

Sara sighed the world-weary sigh of a child who had been told to "wait until you're older" too many times. "Yes. I won't meet my prince until I'm grown up."

"Exactly." Laura brushed another kiss against her daughter's forehead. "I love you, little girl."

"I love you, too, Mommy."

Laura paused in the doorway to look at her daughter one last time before shutting off the lights. Sara was already falling asleep, holding tightly to her favorite stuffed bear.

Laura closed her eyes, praying that she had managed to implant some of her hard-won wisdom in her daughter's mind and heart. She didn't want her little girl to have to live the life that she did. She had to find a way to make sure that she didn't.

* * *

Sara never forgot that conversation with her mother when she was a little girl. For so long, she clung to the hope that a prince would come to rescue her from the horror that was her life. She wanted someone to take her away from the shouting, the fighting, the pain, the smashed walls, the trips to the emergency room. She wanted someone to save her from the life that was so normal to her, yet, at the same time, felt so abnormal.

Then, her family fell apart. It was as if she had been transported into the fairytale. Her father was dead, her mother was taken from her, and she was forced to live with strangers. The only difference was that she wasn't forced to clean their house.

No, that wasn't the only difference.

On the night that her father died, Sara learned a valuable lesson. She learned that fairytales weren't real. Princesses weren't special, and, even if they were, she didn't qualify as one. No one was going to save her. The two people who could have – who were _supposed_ to – were gone.

No prince would come to rescue her from this horrible life. She gave up on the idea of a fairytale ending. She gave up on the idea of ever being found by a prince. She had to rescue herself.


	2. The Teacher

A/N: Thank you so much for the positive response to the first chapter! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Teacher_

"Oh, man. That is just wrong."

Gil Grissom looked up from the mutilated dead body in front of him to make eye contact with the CSI behind him.

"Are you all right, Warrick?"

Warrick Brown, who had only worked with the lab for a month, nodded. He looked a little green.

"Are you sure?" Grissom looked beyond the pallor of the younger man's face to the determination in his eyes. He saw the clear fire burning there and knew that his newest teammate would be fine.

"Yeah, I'm good," Warrick said. He swallowed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nicky's already working the perimeter," Grissom replied. "Why don't you start fingerprinting in here?"

"All right." Warrick opened his kit, ready to get to work.

"I'm going to go check on Nick," Grissom said, standing to his feet. "Will you be all right in here?"

"Griss, I'm _fingerprinting_," Warrick said, giving him a look of disbelief. "How exactly am I going to run into problems?"

Grissom smiled. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

"Right," Warrick agreed, already studying the doorframe.

Grissom watched him for a moment, then went outside in search of Nick Stokes.

A CSI for nearly a year, Nick was fairly capable of handling most tasks on his own. He was crouched down in a flowerbed when Grissom found him.

"How's everything going, Nicky?"

"I've got some footprints," Nick replied. "Definitely a man's shoe … maybe size eleven?"

"Take photographs and molds," Grissom advised.

"I'm on it," Nick said, already reaching for his camera.

"Did you check that window?" Grissom asked, indicating the window above Nick's head.

"I was going to, but I found the footprints first."

Grissom nodded. "I'd say the window probably warrants a look."

"Right."

Grissom nodded. "I'm going to go check on Warrick. I'll be inside if you need me."

"Thanks, Grissom."

Grissom went back inside, where Warrick was still busy with his assigned task. He looked up when Grissom walked in.

"Find anything?"

"Plenty of prints," Warrick replied. "We'll be processing them forever."

"Let's just hope they get us somewhere," Grissom said.

As he worked with the two newest members of the team, Grissom felt a bit of relief. Both young men were already showing an aptitude for their work; he was sure they would both become invaluable in the near future. But, perhaps what relieved him the most was the fact that both were already so capable. It made what he had to do when they returned to the lab that much easier.

* * *

"Jim? Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," Jim Brass said, looking up from his paperwork. "What's on your mind?"

Grissom stepped into Brass's office, taking a seat across the desk from his supervisor. "I need to talk to you about some time off."

Brass's eyebrows shot up. "Don't tell me you're planning to take your first vacation in five years?"

"Don't be silly. I take a week off every year."

"I'm going to need to see actual records of that," Jim replied.

"Can I just make my point?" Grissom asked.

Jim smiled. "Sure. Let's hear it. What does my most dedicated CSI need time off to do?"

"I've been offered the chance to teach a seminar at Berkeley."

"A seminar?" Brass repeated. "Exactly how long will you be gone?"

"It's a six-week seminar."

"Six weeks … I suppose you've waited until the last possible moment to tell me, too."

Grissom's face turned a faint shade of pink. "I need to leave by the end of the week. Tomorrow, if I can."

"Which means that you agreed to go without talking to me."

"I didn't really think it would be a problem," Grissom said. "You've let me teach seminars before."

I know, Gil, but this is a bit different. We've got a lot going on right now, with Nick and Warrick being so new …"

"I know the timing is terrible," Grissom agreed. "I know that I've been training Nick and Warrick, and I know that leaving them is probably the worst decision I've ever made, but …"

"But, you want to go."

"Yes," Grissom said quietly.

"Why?"

Grissom looked at him in surprise. He had not expected that question. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why do you want to go? What is there to be gained from this experience?"

"I'm a teacher," he said simply with a slight shrug. "It's the same reason I volunteered to take care of everything with Nick and Warrick when they were hired. I want …" He trailed off, pausing to think.

"You want?" Brass prompted.

When Grissom spoke again, a fire was blazing in his eyes. "I've said it before, Jim. This isn't a career to me. It's far more. It's my passion. What is the point of having a passion if you can't share it? Nick and Warrick will always be here. And, once they're trained, there will be two new recruits to take their places in our department. But, to do this, to teach a seminar … I'll have the chance to touch so many minds. I'll be able to speak to them, to tell them what we do, to share my experiences with them … I hope that I'll be able to touch one of them enough to make him or her consider doing this same thing in the future.

"Don't you see? Everyday, we touch lives. That's what this is all about. This is just one other way for me to touch lives."

Jim looked at him closely. "You will be back from this seminar, right?"

"Haven't you been listening to me? _This_ is my passion – not teaching seminars. That's just a way for me to express myself."

Jim looked at him for a long minute, then nodded. "Catherine can take care of the boys for a few weeks. It won't be a problem."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. You can leave tomorrow."

Grissom's eyes widened. "You're really sure?"

"Just make sure I get your leave request in writing by the end of the day."

"Right." Grissom stood to leave the office.

"And, Grissom?"

He turned around with his hand on the doorframe. "Yes?"

"Next time, just ask me when you get the letter."

He nodded with a smile. "I will," he promised.

* * *

"Is this for real?"

Grissom looked up from his locker to see Catherine Willows coming toward him. After years of working together, he could usually tell what she was thinking and feeling just by her stance. The way she was rapidly walking toward him told him exactly how irritated she was.

"Is what for real?" he asked.

"I just talked to Brass, who informed me that you are planning to leave us for six weeks, effective tomorrow, to go teach some seminar."

"Yes, that's true."

"And I'm in charge of training both Nick and Warrick while you're gone."

"That's up to Brass," Grissom replied, holding up his hands as if to fend off her argument.

She gave him a look of complete disgust. "You do realize that they're both Level I, right?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I noticed that during the time that I've been training them. But, Nicky's almost ready to go to Level II."

"Oh, well, doesn't that make my job _so_ much easier," Catherine replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Catherine, what's wrong? I've never seen you upset about training the new CSIs before today."

She shook her head. "Nothing."

To anyone else, her tone would have been enough to make it painfully obvious that _something_ was bothering her and that she wanted desperately to be asked about it. Grissom, however, would never pry into a friend's personal life. If Catherine said it was nothing, it was nothing.

He realized she was staring at him, waiting for a response. He shrugged. "If nothing's wrong, then it shouldn't be a problem."

She sat down flatly on the bench. She knew Grissom. She knew he would never ask again what was wrong. She also knew that she had to tell someone or risk exploding under the weight of it all. "Eddie and I are having problems."

Grissom sat down next to her. "Oh." Marriage was far outside his realm of understanding; he had no idea how to help his friend.

"He thinks that I spend too much time at work … that I spend too much time with you."

"We work together," Grissom said simply. "Of course, we spend a lot of time together."

Catherine rolled her eyes, amazed that he had failed to pick up on her suggestion. "Gil, he thinks that we're having an affair."

"What?" Grissom's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. "How could he think that?"

"The whole thing is stupid," she said. "He won't believe that I'm away from home because I'm working; he thinks that I must be sleeping around. And, because you're the one I'm with the most, he thinks that I must be sleeping with you."

"I hope that you told him the truth."

"Yes, dear, I told him that you're far too socially backward to even consider sleeping with someone who's _not_ married, let alone someone who is."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, all right, I'll admit it was a bit harsh, but I didn't really think it would ever get back to you. Look, the point is, working with Nick and Warrick will take a lot of extra hours. Those are hours that I'd rather spend with my family. I'm trying to cut back on the amount of time I'm here. Aside from wanting to make things work with Eddie, I want to be home with Lindsey more. I feel like I'm missing out on watching her grow up."

"Catherine, she's a toddler."

"Exactly! This is when they grow and change the most!"

Grissom shook his head, knowing that there was very little that would stop Catherine once she was on a roll. "Do you want me to talk to Eddie? I can tell him that we've never …"

Catherine shook her head. "No, I think I've got him convinced." She rolled her eyes again. "I don't know why he's so suspicious."

"But, you're sure he's okay with it? That he doesn't mind us working together?"

"I know that he knows enough not to accuse me of having an affair with you again. As for the rest … I was hoping that spending less time here and more time with him and the baby would fix that."

"Let me talk to Brass, then. He can have someone else work with Nick and Warrick while I'm gone."

Again, Catherine shook her head. "If they're going to be working with us, I want one of us to train them."

"Anything to keep them away from Ecklie, right?" Grissom grinned.

She laughed. "I don't want that man messing with our team."

"Is there anything that I can do, then? How can I help you?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. I think I have to just … I don't know." She paused. "There is one favor."

"Name it."

"Next time you decide to go away, let me know a bit ahead of time."

"I'll do my best."

"Your best? That's what I was afraid of." She smiled as she said it, taking the sting out of her words.

Knowing that their sharing time was nearly over, Grissom rose from his seat and looked down at her. "Catherine … are we all right?"

"We're fine," she smiled, standing to her feet. "We weren't ever really _not_ fine, I guess. I just panicked when Brass told me about everything. Which reminds me – why didn't you tell me yourself?"

Grissom shrugged. "Brass is the supervisor. He hands out the assignments."

"I wasn't talking about Nick and Warrick, I was … oh, never mind."

"Hey, Grissom, I've been looking for you."

Both Grissom and Catherine looked up as Nick walked into the locker room.

"What do you need, Nick?" Grissom asked.

"I checked out that window, like you told me to, and I found hair and some fibers. I sent the fibers to trace, who found blood on them."

"Have they been sent to DNA?"

"Yeah. Once they have a profile, we're going to cross-reference it with the fingerprints Warrick found."

"You're hoping for a lot there, Nicky," Catherine commented.

"Yeah, but I think we've gotten more from less before," Nick said.

"You have to exhaust every avenue," Grissom said.

"Right," Nick smiled, looking rather proud of all that he and Warrick had managed to accomplish.

Grissom nodded. "Listen, Nicky, you're going to have to report to Catherine on this case from now on."

"What?" Nick asked, his eyes widening both at the words and the abrupt change of subject. "Brass took you off the case?"

"I took myself off," Grissom corrected. "I'm going to be out of town for the next six weeks."

"What?" Nick asked again, his jaw dropping. "Why?"

"Seminar," Grissom replied. "I'll be back in six weeks, but, until then, you will report to Catherine."

Nick's eyes swung to Catherine, looking for confirmation.

"Yup," she nodded. "I'm your new Grissom for the time being."

"All right," Nick said. "When do you leave, Grissom?"

"Tomorrow," Grissom replied.

"Well, I feel loved," Nick teased. "Nothing like being the last to know."

"Warrick doesn't know yet," Grissom said, "so you're not the last."

"I've known for about twenty minutes," Catherine said.

Nick shook his head. "Well … um … all right, then. I'm going to go see if DNA got anything on my blood and hair …"

"See you, Nicky," Grissom said. He winked at Catherine. "You be good for Cath, okay?"

Nick laughed, shaking his head again. "You got it."

"Well, that went well," Grissom said to Catherine as they watched Nick walk away.

"Socially backward," she said with a shake of her head.

"What?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "Have a good trip, Grissom."

"Thank you," he said. "I'll write."

"No, you won't," she grinned.

"All right, you're right," he agreed. "I'll tell you about it when I get back."

"That I somewhat believe."

He grinned. "Good bye, Catherine."

"Bye," she replied with a smile and yet another shake of her head. "I'll see you in six weeks."

"See you then."

* * *

In many ways, the plane ride from Nevada to California was therapeutic. Grissom found himself using the time to let his thoughts completely unwind and reorganize. A new role awaited him; he was eager to fill it.

All too soon, yet not soon enough, they arrived. Grissom stepped out of the jet way and took a deep breath. He smiled at the familiar smells that assaulted his senses. As much as Las Vegas was home, he had missed California.

He looked around for the small woman that he knew would be bouncing on the balls of her feet, trying to find him in the line of passengers who were deplaning. Finally seeing her waving frantically, he shouldered his carry-on bag and crossed the waiting area to sweep her into his arms.

His mother patted his cheeks when he released her, then kissed them. He grinned, kissing her cheek in reply. Her hands began to move rapidly, but he grabbed them, silencing her.

_I need to get my luggage,_ he signed. _Can we talk once we get to baggage claim_?

His mother nodded, still beaming. She looped her arm through his, and walked him to the baggage claim area.

* * *

Grissom spent two days with his mother before taking up residence in the small apartment the university had provided for him. That only gave him one day to settle in before his seminar began, but he wasn't too concerned. He would be there for six weeks; there was no need to have everything unpacked by the end of the first day. After unpacking the books that he would need for his lectures, he knew that he could not spend another moment inside.

Stepping outside was like stepping into another world. As close as the two places were, there were so many differences between his native California and Nevada. Knowing that the grocery store should be his first stop, he decided to postpone his shopping trip and take a walk around the Berkeley campus.

The students scurried from one place to another, carrying bags full of books and notebooks. They chatted and called out to friends, most with cheery smiles on their faces. Grissom couldn't help but smile as he watched them. For some reason, they made him think of Nick and Warrick.

He loved teaching the new CSIs. His one regret in leaving to teach the seminar was that he would miss out on time spent teaching Warrick and Nick. Even so, there was something about teaching seminars that called to him. He loved speaking to students who had almost no knowledge of his subject area. Awakening them to forensics and entomology was one of his greatest joys.

After taking the longest way possible, he managed to find the grocery store. He picked up the essentials for the next few days, then trudged back to his temporary home. Arranging his kitchen took some time; once it was in order, he looked at his waiting luggage.

He had planned to unpack once he got home. However, he knew that he had to prepare for his lecture the next day. He sat down at his desk to go over his notes again.

The unpacking could wait.


	3. The Student

A/N: Thank you so much for all your comments. I've truly enjoyed reading them.

Thank you again for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates it!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Student_

Sara let herself into her apartment, vaguely surprised to find that it was silent. She had expected that Mary, her roommate, would be home. She knew that the other girl didn't have any classes so early in the day. Shrugging, she dropped her keys onto the table next to the door, and made her way into the kitchen. She dumped out the coffee they had made the day before and turned on the water to clean the pot before making a fresh brew.

"Good morning."

Sara jumped a mile and spun around. "Mary! Are you trying to scare me to death?"

Mary giggled, combing her fingers through her wet hair. "Sorry. I was in the shower when you came in, I guess. How was your run?"

"Fine," Sara replied. "Three miles."

"So short?" Mary teased. "What happened to the girl who used to run six miles every morning?"

"She took on too many classes," Sara replied. "I don't have time to run that long anymore."

Mary made a face. "I don't see why you always feel the need to sign up for _everything_."

"I do not sign up for _everything_," Sara replied. "I only take the classes I think are relevant to my major."

"Sara," Mary said. "You are studying for a Masters in physics. Explain to me how "The Role of Entomology in Forensic Science" is relevant to that."

"I want to fully understand all branches of science," Sara said.

"And that's why you're getting a degree in _physics_? A very specific branch of science? No one can fully understand all branches of science … or anything else, for that matter. You're going to have to do better than that."

"It's …" Sara trailed off into silence. Why _had_ she signed up for this seminar, anyway?

"That's what I thought," Mary said when Sara came up empty. "Sara, you need to slow down. You're going to kill yourself if you don't stop working so hard."

"You work just as hard," Sara shot back.

"No, I don't," Mary said. "I know I sit around here and read all the time, but that's not the same as running to every class, workshop and seminar the school offers."

"Look, we all do things differently. We can't all be language majors," Sara said. "Just because I can't read Plato in three languages doesn't make me any less of a person than you."

"I'm not saying that I'm a better person than you because of my major!" Mary exclaimed.

"What are you trying to say?" Sara asked a bit impatiently.

Mary shook her head. "I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't be. I'm fine."

"Tell me what you have to do today."

"I have a lab this morning, then I'm going to have lunch with my study group, then I have another lab, then a class, then that seminar tonight."

"When exactly are you planning to eat dinner?"

Sara looked at her blankly. "I'll come back between class and the seminar," she promised. "We can have dinner together."

"What times does your class end?"

"Five."

"And what time does the seminar start?"

"Seven."

Mary nodded. "I'll make us something for dinner. It will be on the table when you get here."

A shadow passed across Sara's face. "No," she said forcefully. "I'll bring dinner home."

"Sara, come on, you know I can cook fine –"

"It's not that, okay? It's just … you're not my serving girl. I'll get dinner for both of us while I'm out."

"Okay," Mary said, surprised to see how upset Sara was over something that, in her opinion, was rather trivial. "Sara, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She ran her hand through her tangled hair. "Look, I'm going to take a shower. I'll be back."

"Right," Mary said.

Sara made her way to the bathroom without looking back. She shut herself inside, and leaned back against the door, breathing deeply.

She knew that Mary was just trying to be helpful. She knew that the offer to make dinner was merely a nice gesture.

How could she possibly explain that the promise of having dinner on the table made her think of her parents? How could she tell her friend the awful truth of her past – that _not_ having dinner on the table when her father came home from work usually ended in a black eye and bloody nose for her mother?

She finally moved away from the door and turned on the water in the shower, barely noticing how much her hands were shaking.

* * *

Sara Sidle was nothing if not dedicated to her studies. She had made education her life's passion; even the physics she studied came in second to her burning desire to learn as much as she possibly could. She realized as she ran from her morning lab to the café where she had to meet her study group that _that_ was the reason she signed up for every class, workshop or seminar she could. She had an insatiable need to learn.

Hoping that she would remember to share her revelation with Mary later, she walked into the café. Her study group was already seated at a booth near the window. The three other physics students noticed her immediately; they waved her over to join them.

"Hi, Sara," Tom said, sliding across the bench to make room for her.

"Hi," she replied. "I'm sorry I'm late. My lab ran a little later than usual."

"Don't worry about it," Karen said. "We just got here, anyway."

"Have you ordered yet?"

"Just drinks," Danny said. "We told the waitress we were waiting for you; she should be back to take your order."

"Right," Sara said. "Okay, should we start going over our notes?"

"Let's eat first," Tom suggested. "That way we won't spill anything on our notes."

The others agreed. While Sara outwardly smiled her agreement, inwardly, she groaned. That was what she hated about study groups. Rarely could she find other students whose work ethic matched hers. But, their professor had assigned the groups; she had not had the option of working alone. At this point, she knew better than to try to fight it. Long experience had taught her that lab groups were not generally negotiable. Even if the group members themselves were open for negotiation, the group concept was not. Her years of studying science had taught her that it did make sense not to request to work alone in the lab.

The waitress appeared to take their orders. Sara asked to order last and quickly scanned the menu. She had barely made up her mind by the time she had to order; she hoped she would not regret ordering the chicken salad once it arrived.

The group returned to chatting as soon as the waitress was gone. Sara wanted nothing more than to abstain from the conversation, but found herself being drawn in by her group members. The whole situation was gradually making her angry. She just wanted to go over the notes from their last lab. Why did they insist upon chatting when there was so much work to be done?

Oh, _why_ couldn't she have just worked alone?

* * *

By the time they finished lunch, they barely had time to go over their notes before they had to leave for the lab. Much to Sara's surprise, things there went well for them, despite the lack of studying.

Once they had cleaned up, she and Tom crossed the campus together for their afternoon class. Karen and Danny had class in another building; they did not walk as a group. Sara was always inwardly relieved to say good bye to Karen and Danny at the end of the lab session. While they were both nice people, Danny was quite obviously enamored with Karen. It made Sara distinctly uncomfortable to spend too much time with them.

"So, how about Danny and Karen?" Tom asked, as though he had read Sara's thoughts.

"What about them?" she replied.

"It looks like we have another case of department-cest."

Sara smiled. Of the sixteen students studying for their Masters degrees in physics, four were already dating one another. They all took a fair amount of teasing, but generally responded with comment about how brilliant their children would be. "So, Danny and Karen are dating now?"

Tom nodded with a smile. "They're going to the movies together this weekend. Danny finally worked up the nerve to ask her."

"That's great," Sara smiled.

"Do you really think so?"

"Well, yeah, of course. I mean, it's been rather obvious that he's wanted to ask her forever. What made him finally do it?"

Tom shrugged. "I guess he finally found the right time."

"I suppose that makes sense." Sara paused. "Do you think it's going to make things awkward for the group?"

"In what way?"

"Well, with them dating … I'm afraid things will get weird."

Tom shook his head. "I'm sure it will be like it always was."

"You really think so?"

"You really think it's going to change?"

Sara shrugged. "I guess I've never really thought of work and romance as two things that can mix easily."

"I think two people who are determined enough can make anything happen."

"You're right," Sara agreed. "And Karen and Danny tend to be fairly determined."

Tom nodded. "Don't worry. Our group will only be better now."

Sara smiled. "I hope so."

As always, they reached their classroom just as class was beginning. Their conversation ended as they slid into their seats and turned their full attention to the professor.

* * *

Tom always walked Sara back to her apartment building after class, regardless of how dark it was. At nearly five o'clock it was never that dark, but he insisted, telling her that his mother would kill him if she knew that he was letting a "young lady" walk home across a dangerous college campus alone. Sara let him, as much as her feminist side rebelled against it. He just wanted to be a gentleman.

As they started across campus, Sara remembered that she had promised to bring home dinner. She was about to ask Tom if he minded stopping at her favorite Chinese restaurant on the way when he spoke.

"So, what are you up to this weekend?"

Sara shrugged. "I think that Mary and I were talking about driving out the beach one day, but no definite plans yet. What are you doing?"

"Nothing yet," he said slowly, "but I was hoping you could help me out with that."

Sara glanced at him sideways. She had an awful feeling that she knew where this was going.

"Would you like to hang out sometime this weekend?" he asked.

Sara sucked her breath in quickly. Even her last-minute realization of what he would ask hadn't truly prepared her. "No," she said before she had time to think.

Tom's face fell.

"Look, it's not you," she said in a rush. "I think that you're a great guy, really, I do. It's just that I'm totally focused on school right now, and I don't think that I have the time to devote to a relationship. I would make you miserable. I'm … I'm sorry, Tom. I really am."

"Don't worry about it," he said a bit stiffly. It was his turn to look at her sideways. "You might not believe this, but I'd rather hear that than have you string me along, pretending to care."

She exhaled. "This … this isn't going to be a problem, right?"

"No," he said quickly.

_A bit too quick_, Sara thought. She was sure that this _would_ become a problem. Karen and Danny would not be the ones to add the awkward feeling to the group. She and Tom would be. Their group dynamics were going to shift in the worst possible way.

All thoughts of asking Tom to accompany her to the Chinese restaurant were gone. Now, all she wanted was to get home and away from him.

She and Mary could always order a pizza.

* * *

"Hi," Sara called as she walked into the apartment.

"Hey!" Mary called.

Sara could hear her footsteps coming down the hall from her bedroom. Judging by how slowly she was walking, Mary was probably reading on her way down the hall. Smiling at the horror that was the language major's life, Sara made her way into the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

"What's for dinner?" Mary asked as she entered the living room.

"Um, about that …"

Mary dropped her book onto the coffee table. "You forgot!" she accused.

"No, I didn't forget. I just had a traumatic experience on the way home, that's all."

"What happened?" Mary asked, sitting down next to her with wide eyes.

"What's this?" Sara asked, picking up her book.

"_El cantar de mío Cid_," Mary said distractedly. "Sara! What happened to you?"

"Oh, it was stupid …"

"Tell me."

She sighed. "You know Tom, right?"

"Your study buddy? The cute one with the pretty green eyes?"

"That's him."

"What about him?"

"He asked me out."

Mary squealed. "When are you going? What are you doing?"

Sara looked at her blankly. "I turned him down."

"What?" Mary exclaimed. "What happened? Why would you do that?"

"Mary," she sighed, "I just don't want a boyfriend."

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I want to focus on my education. I still have almost a year left before I finish my Masters, then I'll go on to my PhD, and …"

"You turned him down because you're married to your degrees," Mary sighed, shaking her head.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sara said defensively.

"Sara, Sara, Sara," Mary said with a sad smile. "Is this really all you want from life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you realize what you're going to do to yourself? In six years, all your education will be done. What will be left for you then?"

"I … I guess I'll start teaching."

"Teaching?" Mary asked. "I never picked you for the professor type."

Sara shrugged. "I love academics. I love to learn. What other career is there for me?"

"'What other career?'" Mary repeated. "What about, 'what other life's passion?'"

"Learning is my passion," Sara replied simply. "You know, I realized that today when I was going to my morning lab. You asked why I sign up for every possible class. It's so I can learn everything. I … I have to keep learning. I have to keep discovering. That's why I went into science in the first place. It's a field that is constantly evolving. I have to keep up with everything, and to make myself the best student, teacher, or _whatever_ that I can be."

Mary looked at her for a long minute. "So, this is it for you, then? No desires beyond education and career? No thoughts of a family?"

Sara shrugged again. "Before you can be the wife or the mother, you have to be the girlfriend. I just don't see myself as the girlfriend."

"Not all girlfriends are the same. You're just thinking of people like the girls we knew in undergrad who would hang all over their boyfriends."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"You wouldn't have to be like that."

Sara shook her head. "Look, I dated in undergrad. I know what it was like. Guys just want some pretty girl they can parade around and use to impress their friends."

"Not all … oh, never mind. There's no getting through to you."

"I'm sorry, Mary. I wish I could be more like you."

"No, you don't," Mary grinned. "Besides, it's not like I'm one to talk. I don't have a boyfriend, either."

"Well, I'm trying to keep myself single."

"You know, maybe it's just that you haven't found the right one."

Sara started, thinking of her childhood dreams of being found by her very own Prince Charming. "Is there really a 'right one?'"

"Isn't that what everyone believes?" Mary asked. "We're all just hoping to find Mr. Right, aren't we?"

"Maybe you are," Sara replied, "but, I'm not. I can take care of myself."

Mary shook her head. "So, you really turned him down?"

"I really did."

Mary smiled, a mischievous sparkle shining in her eyes. "Can I have his number?"

Sara laughed. "The body is barely cold, you know."

"What? It's not like you want him. Can't I poach your rejects?"

Sara laughed again. "Can't we just order dinner or something?"

"Fine. How about pizza?"

"That'll do."

"You know, we could have a lovely, homemade meal right now, if you had just let me handle this."

"How was I supposed to know that my gentlemanly escort would accost me on the way home? I'm not psychic!"

"You never really get the points that I try to make, do you?"

"I try to," Sara said earnestly. "I'm sorry, Mary. I'm a terrible friend."

"No, you're a very good friend," Mary said. "You're just a bit odd, that's all."

"Well, I suppose that could be a good thing …"

Mary laughed as she picked up the phone. "Just tell me what you want on the pizza."

* * *

Despite the promise of having the pizza to them in thirty minutes, it took nearly an hour. Sara had spent the last half hour bouncing around the apartment, nervous that she would be late for her seminar. The pizza finally arrived. She paid the delivery man and nearly threw it on the table in her rush to grab a stack of napkins.

"Would you calm down?" Mary said. "You need to actually digest this, you know."

"I don't have time," Sara replied, taking a huge bite of her slice of pizza. "I'm going to be late for the seminar."

"So, skip it," Mary said. "Why bother going in if you're going to be late?"

Sara gave her a look of annoyance. "You know I can't do that, Mar. I signed up. I'm supposed to be there. I'm committed."

Mary shook her head. "Well, I hope you don't make yourself sick with this speed eating."

Sara put her plate in the sink and her napkins in the trash. "I won't," she said as she ran into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Five minutes later, with teeth brushed and hair in a messy ponytail, Sara grabbed her bag. "Okay, I'm out of here."

"Have fun," Mary said, still sitting at the kitchen table with her pizza.

"I will," Sara said, throwing her keys into her bag. "I'll see you in a couple hours."

Mary nodded. "Bye."

Sara took off out the door and practically ran across the campus. Quick glances at her watch told her how little time remained; she was actually running as she closed in on the lecture hall. She ran into the building where the seminar would be held just as the clock struck seven. Wishing that she had run the whole way, Sara skidded to a stop outside the door of the lecture hall. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then opened the door. She was ready to let her education in forensics begin.


	4. The Meeting of the Minds

A/N: Thank you so much for all your comments. It means so much to me to know that you're enjoying this story.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Meeting of the Minds_

"My name is Gil Grissom, and I'll be working with you on the role of entomology in forensic science for the next few weeks. I am both an entomologist and a forensic scientist, so these are two fields that are very important to me. I work with the crime lab for the Las Vegas Police Department in Las Vegas, Nevada …"

Sara's face turned a bright shade of red as she walked into the room, realizing that the lecture had already begun. She went straight to the nearest row, hoping to blend in and make it look like she wasn't late for class. Plenty of others had had the same idea; the back of the room was far more populated than the front. This meant that Sara was denied her back row seat; she had to move up to the middle of the room to find an empty desk.

Admittedly, she wasn't too concerned with missing out on the introduction portion of the lecture. Sara had done plenty of research on the teacher, Dr. Gil Grissom, in the weeks leading up to the seminar. She was always diligent about knowing as much as she could about her professors before a class started; seminars were no exception. She had already read his extensive educational background, noting the papers he had published and the lectures he had given. With all her prior knowledge, she was surprised to see how young he was. She had expected to see a man old enough to be her grandfather; instead, she found someone young enough to be her friend.

Grissom noticed the young woman who came in late, noting how red her face turned when she realized that she had arrived after the lecture had begun. He started to feel slightly annoyed that she was late, but checked himself. He had no idea what she had been doing before the lecture; she could have been in another class that ran late. Clearing his throat to return his focus to his work, he continued his introduction.

Dr. Grissom continued speaking, but Sara barely heard another word of his introduction. She was busy setting herself up for class; getting out her notebook and pen.

The introduction finally ended and the lecture began. Sara sat up straighter in her chair with her pen poised against the first page of her notebook; this was the part she had come to hear. As soon as Dr. Grissom began to speak, however, her focus was gone. She was completely mesmerized by the tone of his voice, the passion he infused into every word, and the extensive wealth of knowledge he possessed. He was, in a word, brilliant. She was certain that he could go head to head with any professor she had had in her educational career – either at Berkley or at Harvard – and come out on top. She could learn so much from him.

Suddenly realizing that she had missed even more information as she sat daydreaming, she grabbed her notebook. Her pen slid effortlessly across the page as she took notes in a linear, outline form. One thing that Sara prided herself on was her ability to take notes. She copied down practically every detail in an attempt to make sure that she would be able to recall everything later. This was yet another reason that she hated study groups – everyone always wanted to copy her notes.

Her notes had never been so detailed as they were that night. She wished that she could somehow record more than the words that Dr. Grissom spoke. He said so much with the expressions on his face, the movements of his hands and the inflection of his voice. They all added meaning and depth to the lecture.

Even without having a physical record of Grissom and his expressiveness, Sara was sure that she would never forget what he said. There was something about him … she knew she would never forget any of his lectures.

* * *

All too soon, the class drew to a close. Grissom smiled slightly as he noticed the students starting to shift in their seats, to pick up their pen caps and to close their notebooks. He glanced at his watch, even though it was more a formality than a necessity. The students always had an innate sense of when a class was scheduled to end; he merely needed to follow their lead. 

"It would appear that that is all we have time for tonight," he said. "We'll pick up here on Thursday. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."

A murmured "thank you" ran throughout the room as the students packed up their belongings. Grissom turned to the podium to organize his own notes and books before putting them back into his bag.

"Dr. Grissom? I have a question."

Grissom turned to look at the young man before him. He gave him an encouraging smile. "Of course. What is it?"

* * *

Sara sighed in frustration as she watched Tony monopolize Dr. Grissom's time. He always stayed at the end of class to ask the teacher questions, regardless of the fact that he rarely misunderstood anything. Tony was a professional kiss-ass, and knew that the best way to be on a teacher's good side was to ask intelligent questions. 

All Sara wanted to do was to introduce herself and to apologize for being late. Now, Tony would talk to Dr. Grissom forever, and she'd be even later getting home.

Well …

Maybe this wasn't really about apologizing. Maybe she just wanted to talk to Dr. Grissom. Maybe she just wanted to speak to the man she considered to be one of the most intelligent speakers she had ever heard. Maybe she hoped that she'd have the chance to pick his brain. Maybe the more time that Tony spent talking and the more time that she spent waiting, the less confident she was becoming.

Maybe she needed to calm down.

* * *

Grissom answered Tony's questions good-naturedly, impressed that the young man had managed to pick up on so many of his more subtle points. This one would be an excellent student. 

Glancing past Tony as what he presumed to be the last of the students left the room, Grissom noticed that Tony was not the only one with a question. Another student, this one the young woman who had come in late, sat at one of the desks, waiting her turn to speak with him. Her long legs were crossed as though she were prepared to wait as long as necessary, but her pen drummed a fast tattoo against her notebook, suggesting that she was not the most patient person in the world. Grissom found himself wanting to hurry Tony along, but he knew that he could never rush a student.

"Okay," Tony said at last. "I think I've got it. Thank you so much, Dr. Grissom. You really cleared that up for me."

"It was my pleasure," Grissom replied. "I'll see you on Thursday."

"Right," Tony agreed. "Good night."

As Tony made his way out the door, Grissom turned his eyes on Sara.

* * *

A jolt of electricity shot through her as they made eye contact for the first time. She just stopped herself from jumping. In order to buy herself some time to calm down, Sara took her time slowly and methodically capping her pen. She stood and crossed to where Dr. Grissom awaited her. 

"Hi," she said, pleased that her voice did not come out as the high-pitched squeak she had feared. "I'm Sara Sidle."

Grissom smiled at the young woman and offered his hand. "Hello, Sara Sidle. I'm Gil Grissom."

A second jolt of electricity shot through Sara as she shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said.

"And you," he replied. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to apologize for coming in late," she said. "My roommate and I had a bit of a problem with dinner … our pizza was late …" She trailed off, feeling her face heat. "That is probably the lamest excuse I've ever given, but it's completely true."

Grissom smiled. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. Just don't let it happen again, all right?"

"I won't," Sara promised.

When she made no move to leave, Grissom raised an eyebrow. Did she have a question? Expect him to continue the conversation? He didn't know what to do in situations like this. Catherine was right. He was socially backward. He finally settled on a safe question. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

"Oh, yes!" Sara exclaimed. "This is truly fascinating … I had never realized that this world existed."

"Forensics, entomology or both?"

"Both, I guess," she replied. "Well, I mean, I knew that they _existed_, but I had never considered studying them. But, truly … I'm very interested now."

"What are you studying?"

"Physics," she replied promptly.

He nodded. "An excellent field."

"I suppose," Sara said, doubting her choice in major for the first time. As much as she loved physics, there was something about forensics that called to her.

"It is," Grissom assured her. "I'm sure your background will make all that we discuss during our classes a bit easier to follow."

"That's encouraging," Sara smiled. Realizing that she truly had nothing else to say, or at least no power to phrase the thoughts running through her head, she smiled again. "Well, I just wanted to apologize," she said. "I should be going."

"Thank you for taking the time to apologize," Grissom replied. "Consider yourself forgiven."

"Thanks," she smiled. "And, thanks for the lecture. I really enjoyed it."

"You're welcome. I'll see you on Thursday, Sara."

"See you then," she replied.

She collected her things and made her way out of the classroom, feeling a bit giddy. This man had managed to spark her interest in his field after only one class. What did the rest of the seminar hold?

* * *

Grissom smiled to himself as he watched her leave. Sara seemed like a very sweet girl. She was obviously a very eager student; she had to be very bright to make it as a physics major. Between Sara and Tony, he was sure that this seminar would keep him on his toes.

* * *

Looking back years later, Sara had no idea how she made it home that night. Her mind was completely occupied with the last hour and a half, and all that she had learned. A new interested had jumped into her mind, and she didn't know how to process it quickly enough. She didn't remember walking across the dark campus or arriving at her apartment. The first thing she remembered was opening her front door and walking inside, still in a daze. She dropped her keys on the table strictly out of habit, and slowly made her way into her home. 

"Hi, Sara!" Mary called from the living room. "How was your seminar?"

"Oh, man," Sara said, collapsing onto the couch. "Amazing."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Forensics are that interesting?"

"Mm-hm."

She looked at her closely. "Sara, I know that you're a science geek, but even _you_ never get this excited about a class. What aren't you telling me?"

"No, really, it was that interesting," Sara said earnestly. "You wouldn't believe everything that I learned … he knows so much …"

"Who knows so much?"

"Dr. Grissom."

"The teacher?"

"Yes."

Mary's eyes widened. "Sara. Are you telling me that you have a crush on your teacher?"

"No!" Sara exclaimed. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I haven't seen you this excited about a class since intro to philosophy sophomore year."

Sara laughed. "Oh, come on. Everyone had a crush on Henry."

"Well, he _was_ a great TA," Mary laughed.

"But this has nothing to do with that," Sara insisted. "It's not like that. I mean, I don't even find this guy physically attractive. He's just … brilliant."

"Brilliant?" Mary repeated.

"Yes."

"Okay. Tell me about him."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "You agree that I don't have a crush on him?"

Mary shrugged. "If you say you don't, you don't. But, you're obviously enamored with the class. I want to hear all about the man who's teaching it."

"I don't even know what to say," Sara replied slowly. "He's brilliant. I'd love to pick his brain."

Mary rolled her eyes and smiled tolerantly. "You truly are a geek. What girl starts a description of her crush by talking about how smart he is?"

"I thought we had established that I don't have a crush on him?"

"Right," Mary agreed. "That was just a random commented based on the fact that you always have gone for smart guys."

"You don't need to say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not!" Mary exclaimed. "Ugh, I'm making a mess of this. Let's try again. Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about him?"

"He's nice," Sara replied. "Understanding. I guess … sort of handsome."

Mary grinned. "There's my Sara. Always saving the physical description for last."

"Maybe I'm not as shallow as you," Sara teased. "Besides, like I said, I don't find him physically attractive. He's just …"

Mary smiled, ready to save her roommate. "He sounds great, Sara." She paused and looked at Sara cautiously. "Just … don't go changing your major yet, okay?"

"I never said I was planning to change my major."

"Believe me, it was implied in every word."

Sara laughed, her face flushing slightly. "So I find forensic science interesting. I'm a science geek; you said so yourself. Repeatedly."

"Just … be careful, all right?" Mary said gently.

Sara looked at her with a slight frown. "Be careful? What do you mean?"

Mary smiled gently. "I think you know what I mean," she said softly.

"Mary," Sara said. "I. Do. Not. Have. A. Crush. On. My. Teacher."

"Of course, you don't," Mary said in a rather placating tone.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because I know you better than you know yourself," Mary replied. She sighed. "But, I'm willing to live in denial with you for as long as it takes."

* * *

Sara had a hard time falling asleep that night. Her mind was still buzzing with all she had learned during the seminar. Even as she reviewed all the facts that had been presented, Mary's accusations floated around the back of her mind. She rolled over, punching her pillow into a more comfortable position. 

"I do not have a crush on him," she told herself. "I just don't. He's so much older than me … he's not even that cute! Well, he _does_ have pretty eyes … and he doesn't really look his age … whatever that might be …"

She could feel heat creeping across her face and neck and knew that they were turning red, even though no one was there to observe her embarrassment. She turned her face into her pillow.

"He's just a brilliant teacher and an excellent speaker," she whispered. "I'm going to learn about forensics from him. _That's all_. That's all I want, and that's all that's going to happen."

Having convinced herself of her feelings, she rolled over and tried again to fall asleep.

* * *

"Mary! I'm leaving for my seminar!" 

"Wait!"

Sara stopped with her hand on the door, listening to the sounds of the water at the kitchen sink stopping. Mary came running into the foyer.

"I need to tell you something."

"What?" Sara asked.

Mary smiled. "Look, I know you have this crush on the teacher and all, but I swear, if you come back here with a new major tonight, I will beat you with the thickest book in my collection … and you know how many anthologies I have."

"I do _not_ have a crush on my teacher!" Sara laughed. "And, I am not going to change my major."

"You have been to one, I repeat, _one_ lecture in this seminar, and forensics are all you've talked about since then. I'm a little concerned."

Sara's smile widened. "I won't change my major _tonight_."

"Sara Sidle!"

Sara laughed again. "Just let me go, Mary. I promised Dr. Grissom I wouldn't be late again."

"Heaven forbid I come between you and Dr. Grissom," Mary laughed. "I'll see you later, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara felt like she could have skipped across the campus. She was so excited to go to another class with her new favorite teacher. She decided against skipping, but made it to the lecture hall in record time. Trying to make sure she didn't have a goofy grin on her face, she slowly opened the door to the classroom.

Despite her quick pace, she wasn't the first one there. There weren't that many students in the room yet; she had a wide selection of desks. She chose a seat toward the front of the room, and opened her bag to pull out her notebook and pen.

"Hello, Sara."

Sara felt a nervous blush sneaking across her cheeks as she looked up at Grissom. "Hi, Dr. Grissom," she said with a slight smile.

Grissom smiled back. "I'm glad to see that you could make it on time today."

"I made a bit more of an effort," she replied. "I wouldn't want to break my promise."

"You are a woman of her word," Grissom smiled. He glanced at his watch. "We'll begin in just a few minutes."

Sara nodded and reached for her bag. "I'd better get ready, then."

"Yes … I should do the same."

She stole a glance at him as he prepared for class, watching the way his eyes seemed to notice everything. She wondered if he had learned to be a careful observer because of his field, or if that was a trait that he had always possessed.

As he had during the first class, Grissom kept a careful eye on the time. He began his lecture as soon as his watch turned to seven.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "How are all of you tonight?"

A general murmur ran throughout the room.

"I'll take that as a 'fine,'" Grissom said. "Tonight, I'd like to discuss using entomology to construct a timeline for use with a crime scene …"

Again, Sara's pen raced across her paper as he spoke, trying to capture as much information as possible. Her mind felt like it was in over-drive, working to keep up and absorb all the new knowledge that Grissom offered. A slight frown crossed her face from time to time as she made a connection between two points or was confused by something. She wrote questions in the margins of her notes, hoping to stay after class to discuss some of the finer points of the lecture with the teacher.

* * *

Grissom watched all the students carefully as he spoke, but his eyes kept moving back to Sara. He had already noticed during their first meeting that she was a very pretty girl, but watching her during a lecture was a new experience. Her face told the story of what went through her mind; judging by her expressions, she was getting more out of this class than he had hoped any of his students would. He hoped that he would have the chance to talk to her after class. He wanted to see if she would tell him what she had learned.

* * *

Again, the students signaled to Grissom when the class should end. Again, he dismissed them right on time. Again, Tony remained to ask him several questions on key points. Again, he was impressed by the young man's grip of science. Again, Sara sat at her desk, waiting for her turn to speak with the professor. 

For the first time, he was excited to have the chance to speak with her.

* * *

Sara grew more and more frustrated as she waited for Tony to end his conversation with Dr. Grissom. She was afraid that she would forget her questions by the time her turn came to speak with him. 

Finally, Tony left and Grissom turned his blue eyes on her. He gave her a smile.

"May I help you?"

"Yes," Sara said at once. "I had some questions about what you said tonight."

"All right," Grissom said, sitting down at the desk next to hers. "Ask, and I'll try to answer them for you."

Sara nodded, and flipped to her first page of notes for the evening. Grissom looked down at the organized notes and raised his eyebrows.

"You take copious notes."

Sara smiled, flushing slightly. "I'm a good listener," she said. "I try to write down everything I hear … it makes it easier to recall lectures later."

"An excellent habit," Grissom commented. "Tricks to help us recall events are invaluable in forensics."

"Yes, I suppose they would be," Sara agreed.

"Now, let's hear your questions."

Sara scanned through her notes quickly, and began asking her questions. Grissom patiently answered them, giving her a far more thorough understanding of the evening's topics than any other student.

He was floored by her. Sara was, in a word, brilliant. He was sure that she could go head to head with any CSI in his lab – some of the most intelligent science minds he had ever known – and come out on top. This girl had an amazing ability to get to the heart of a matter, and, judging by the line of questioning she was employing, to continue on until all her questions were answered and curiosities satisfied.

He truly felt that he could discuss this with her forever. Her mind was quick enough to keep up with his in-depth explanations, and her questions made him think like few other things did.

Sara was thrilled by the consideration he gave her. She had never expected him to give her such detailed answers. She had expected even less that he would take such pleasure in answering her questions. He spoke as though she were the most interesting person in the world, and her questions were the most thought-provoking he had ever been asked. His interest in her questions made her ask even more, leading them to a very detailed discussion about entomology and forensics.

Neither of them realized how long they had been talking until a janitor came into the room. He gave them an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, folks, but I have to lock up the building," he said. "The coffee shop will still be open for a few hours, if you need somewhere to continue your tutoring session."

"That's fine," Grissom said. "I think we were about done, right?"

"I think so," Sara said, looking at all the new notes that she had scribbled in the margins of her original notes. "I can't think of any other questions right now."

"Well, if you do, bring them to class on Tuesday," Grissom said.

Sara nodded. "Thank you so much, Dr. Grissom. I really appreciate all the time you spent with me on this."

"It was my pleasure," he said.

They packed up their things silence. Sara was done first. She looked at him uncertainly, wondering if she should wait so they could walk out together. He glanced up at her.

"Good night, Sara," he said.

"See you Tuesday," she replied.

He nodded, and she took her leave.

This time, she nearly danced back across the campus. She had never found a class so … exhilarating ... before.

Maybe Mary was right. Maybe she did have a little crush on her teacher.

She giggled to herself as the thought went through her mind. For some reason, she found it utter ridiculous … yet, at the same time, utterly perfect.


	5. The Friendship

A/N: Thank you again for all your reviews and comments! They really do mean the world to me.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Friendship_

_Ring._

Deeply immersed in reading the latest batch of essays from his students, Grissom jumped a mile as his phone started ringing. He looked at it for a moment, blinking when it rang a second time. Realizing how long it had been since he had talked to her, he smiled. He picked up the phone knowing exactly whose voice he would hear on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"So, how's it going?" she greeted him.

"Fine," Grissom replied.

"Fine?" she repeated in disbelief. "That's all you're going to say to me? _Fine_?"

He heaved a mocked sigh, smiling. "What exactly would you like to hear?"

"Some details! An update on what you've been doing!" He could almost hear Catherine roll her eyes. "Gil, I haven't talked to you in a week. I know that you do things like this to get away from the lab for a bit, but this is the first time you've actually gone out of your way not to talk to us. It's like you've cut off contact."

Grissom smiled. "Catherine, are you trying to say that you miss me?"

"We can barely get by without you."

"Any good cases?"

"Plenty," she replied. "And, when you come back from Never-Never Land, you can read all about them."

"_Now_ who's the one holding back on the details?"

She laughed. "Now you know how it feels."

Grissom smiled again. "There's not much to tell. I'm teaching a group of very bright students."

"Oh, that's how it's going to be? We're just going to state the obvious? Well, I'm chasing down the bad guys of Las Vegas."

"Well put," Grissom replied. "How are Warrick and Nicky doing?"

"Really well," Catherine said. "I'm impressed, Grissom. You've done a great job with them."

"You don't need to sound so surprised."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Obviously you're a good teacher; you must be the most popular guest lecturer Berkley has ever seen."

"I think you're going a bit far."

"Well, you must spend all your time teaching if you haven't been calling me every day for an update on the lab." She paused dramatically. "Unless …"

Grissom sighed, fearing what was coming. "Unless _what_?"

"Unless you've finally managed to find a girlfriend," Catherine said in a teasing, suggestive voice.

"Catherine …"

She laughed. "Okay, I know. I've gone too far. I've crossed the line."

"With you, there are no lines," Grissom sighed.

"You do miss me, don't you?" she teased.

"Terribly," Grissom said sarcastically. "Do _you_ miss _me_, Catherine, or do you just delight in tormenting me?"

"A little of both," she replied.

"Have we satisfied your desires at this point, or do we need to continue this conversation?"

"That was a bit more innuendo than I'd like to hear from you," Catherine laughed. "You must miss me."

"Catherine, I'm hanging up now," Grissom said.

She laughed again. "Bye, Grissom. Have fun with your students."

"Take good care of Nick and Warrick," Grissom replied. "Tell them hello. Jim and Al, too."

"What, no warm greeting for Ecklie?" she laughed.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "I doubt that our illustrious colleague would be pleased to hear from me."

"I know. That's why I want to tell him that you said hello."

Grissom laughed at that. "Stay out of trouble until I get back, Cath."

"I will. We'll talk soon, right?"

"Of course."

"All right. Bye, Grissom."

"Good bye, Catherine."

Grissom hung up his phone and stared at it for a few moments. He hated talking to Catherine when she thought he was hiding something from her. She would never rest until she knew what it was. Really, he was surprised that she had let him off so easily.

The reality was that he _wasn't_ hiding anything from her. He truly had not called to check in with her because he had been so busy with his class. He had not realized how time-consuming this seminar would be. None of his previous seminars had put so much of a demand on his time.

Then again, perhaps his previous seminars hadn't included such talented students as this one. Sara and Tony both possessed a passion for learning that truly impressed him. He would love to have both of them working with him in Las Vegas. He was very tempted to ask them to consider changing career paths. Yet, when the thought crossed his mind, he realized that he had no idea what their original career paths were. Perhaps he needed to find out. He would love to keep working with them.

During the most recent class, Sara and Tony had entered into an unofficial, undeclared battle to be his star student. While he hoped they wouldn't actually come to blows over the whole thing, he was rather intrigued by watching it unfold. And, truly, if it would provide his classes with such lively discussions as that of the previous night, he was willing to let them compete.

May the most talented scientist win.

* * *

Sara looked down at her notebook, highlighting the questions she had written in the margins. She looked up again to see Tony saying good bye to Dr. Grissom. Once Tony had walked away, the older man turned to her with a smile.

"May I help you, Miss Sidle?"

"I just have a few questions," she said.

Grissom nodded and sat down next to her. "Okay. Let's hear them."

Sara launched into her first question, which provided an excellent point to start a conversation about all of them. As they had after the previous classes, Sara and Grissom sat talking about forensics for over an hour. When they had finally managed to satisfy Sara's curiosity, Grissom decided to satisfy his own.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What do you want to do with your life?" he asked.

Sara frowned slightly. "What?"

"You're a physics student, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to do with your physics degree?"

"Well, it will be my second. My undergrad degree is in physics, too," she said. She paused and bit her lip. "I've always intended to continue on and get my PhD in physics."

Grissom nodded. "And then?"

She looked at him blankly.

He smiled. "A PhD is a wonderful thing to have. People call you "Doctor," and tend to treat you as though you're a cut above, even though you know that you're not. But, in the end, it's only a piece of paper that cost you five years and thousands of dollars. It's not a career."

"But, it leads to one."

"True." He looked at her intently. "What career do you intend to pursue?"

Sara bit her lip again. "I had always thought that I'd go into teaching at a university somewhere."

"If I may be so bold, you don't sound very sure of yourself."

She shook her head. "I've never been very sure of what I want to do beyond getting the degrees." She looked at him for a moment as though deciding something. In the end, she blurted out her question. "How did you decide to become a criminalist?"

"I didn't," he said simply.

She looked at him blankly.

He smiled. "This isn't a 'career' for me, Sara. It's my passion. I didn't grow up thinking that I wanted to work in law enforcement, or that I wanted to investigate crime scenes. I fell into this line of work, and it is and always has been a perfect fit. I get to be a scientist, I get to solve puzzles and I get to help people. Truly, it's everything I never knew I wanted until I found it."

His passion for forensic science was infectious. Sara's eyes began to shine with his as she listened to him speak. "I never even knew …"

"I don't want you to get into this just because I love it," he cautioned, knowing that he would hate himself for _not_ saying this even more than he would hate himself _for_ saying it. "It's not something I want you to get into because of some romantic notion."

Sara's face colored slightly, even though she knew that his use of "romantic notion" had nothing to do with her own feelings. "I won't," she promised.

"Good," he said. "But, if you decide that it _is_ a field you'd like to pursue, I'd be more than happy to help you get started."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "That really means a lot to me."

* * *

"Seriously?"

Sara looked at Mary in confusion. "What?"

"What is all this?"

"Magazines."

"Yes, I can see that. I thought _I_ was the reader of this relationship." Mary began rifling through the stack of magazines Sara had deposited on the coffee table. "All forensic journals?"

"Why not? Sara asked defensively. "Do you have any idea how much knowledge Tony has about forensics? I need to do a lot of reading if I'm going to be able to keep up with him in class."

"Sara." Mary sat down on the couch with her. "What are you doing?"

"I just told you –"

"You just told me a small, isolated bit of information that has nothing to do with anything," Mary said. "You've had plenty of classes with Tony in the past, and you've gone head to head with him plenty of times in the past, but never have I seen you do so much extra reading for the sake of looking better than him."

"You're right; there's more." She paused, as if searching for words. "I want to learn about forensics," Sara said. Her eyes took on a shine. "I had never really thought about a career in forensics before now. You're the one who said I needed to find my passion, and … I think that this may be it. It's truly fascinating, Mar."

"_It's_ truly fascinating, or _he's_ truly fascinating?" Mary asked gently.

Sara's eyes widened. "Mary …"

"Sara, listen to me. You have been taking this seminar for three weeks, and I have yet to see you come home on time. You stay after class talking to Grissom until the janitors kick you out of the building. You've suddenly developed an interest in a branch of science that I don't remember hearing you _mention_ before. You can't tell me this is all because you find the subject area so intriguing."

Sara took a deep breath before responding. "I do find it intriguing," she said quietly. "I never really knew anything about forensics until now, and, honestly, Mary, it really has captured my interest."

"But?" Mary prompted, hearing the hesitation at the end of Sara's statement.

"But," she said slowly and a bit reluctantly, "he has captured my interest, too."

"I knew it!" Mary exclaimed gleefully, clapping her hands together. "I knew you weren't just staying after class because you wanted to talk science! You wanted to talk to the _scientist_!"

"God, Mar, you're making me feel dirty."

"You're not quite dirty yet," Mary grinned. "Plenty of people crush on their teachers. It only becomes dirty if you actually start _dating_ him."

Sara sighed. "He'd never date me."

Sensing the plea for a compliment, Mary decided to humor her. "Why wouldn't he? Clearly, he likes spending time with you … unless you've been keeping him after class by holding a gun to his head."

Sara smiled. "He works for the police. I think there's a pretty strong law against threatening a police officer with a gun."

"He's not an actual police officer," Mary said dismissively. "But, I think you've found my point. He's staying to talk to you because he wants to, not because he has to."

"I don't know …"

"And, let's not forget, you're a beautiful girl," Mary said.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Not that it's done much for me in the past."

"You know, Sara, your problem is that you can't see what others see when they look at you. You don't have any idea how pretty you really are."

"Some people might say that that's a good thing."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Stop being so modest."

"I'm not," Sara protested. She sighed. "Can we please just drop this conversation?"

"All right," Mary agreed. She picked up the top magazine from Sara's stack and threw it at her. "Let's just sit here and read together."

Sara smiled as she opened the periodical. "I've always wondered what a day in the life of Mary would be like."

Mary laughed. "Then hold on and get ready to experience it."

* * *

Sara prepared for her seminar with a bit of excitement and anticipation. She had devoured the forensic journals as though they were required reading for her thesis, and was looking forward to discussing what she had learned with Grissom.

"Mary, I'm leaving!" she called as she opened their front door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Mary called back.

Laughing, Sara stepped across the threshold. "Bye!"

"See you later!"

* * *

Grissom's eyes lit up when she walked into the room. Well … maybe they didn't "light up," per se, but he did look up when she walked in. She considered that, and the smile that he gave her, a small victory.

"Hello, Sara," he said.

"Hi," she replied.

The brief exchange was enough to fluster her, if only slightly. She made her way to her seat and took out her things for class. Busy looking through her bag, she had no idea that Grissom had followed her to her seat until he spoke.

"I think you'll enjoy tonight's lecture," he said. "I'm incorporating a bit of physics. We'll look at part of their role in forensics."

Startled, Sara looked up. "I thought this was about entomology in forensics," she said with a slight frown.

"It is," he replied. "Haven't you learned, in all your years of study, that all branches of science are interconnected?"

She smiled. "You're right, of course."

"I think you'll be surprised how many connections there are between what you've already learned and what you're learning now."

"I already am."

"Good. I hope I can show you a few more tonight."

* * *

He certainly achieved his goal. After class, as Sara patiently awaited her turn to talk to Grissom, she considered all she had learned during the lecture, combined with the pervious lectures, what she had learned in her physics classes and all that she had read in the forensic journals. She could hardly wait to discuss it all with Grissom. When Tony had finally finished his dissertation on all things forensic, Grissom turned to Sara with a smile.

"You're so patient," he commented as he took a seat next to her. "You always wait until he's done before speaking with me."

"I want to have my questions answered," she replied. "And, I like to know that you're not thinking in the back of your mind that you need to finish talking to me because there's someone else waiting to ask you a question."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Do you put that much thought and effort into everything that you do?"

Sara shrugged. "It's just basic common sense."

"Ah, but common sense is the one thing that is most often lacking in the scientific community," Grissom smiled. "We all become so completely involved in our studies that we forget that common sense exists … which is a shame, considering that it can often lead us to the answers we seek."

It was Sara's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Did I just climb to the top of a mountain to gain that bit of wisdom?"

"No, it came to you without all the trouble," Grissom replied. "Now, what can I help you understand tonight?"

"I've been doing a bit of outside reading," Sara said. "I'd really appreciate it if you could help me connect some thoughts. I'm trying to compare what I've read with what we've discussed in class."

Grissom's eyes widened and he smiled. "I'd love to."

* * *

They were still in the middle of their rather intense conversation when the janitor, who now knew to expect to find them in their classroom on Tuesdays and Thursdays, stopped in the doorway.

"Hi, folks," he said. "It's time for me to lock up."

Sara and Grissom looked at one another in surprise.

"I didn't realize it was so late," Sara said rather regretfully. She looked down at her notebooks. "I suppose this can wait until Tuesday."

Grissom looked as though he was making a rather difficult decision. "No," he said at last. "It can't."

Sara looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want to lose the thread," he explained. "This isn't something that can be taught two hours a week. We need to keep going while the thoughts are at the top of our minds."

"But, Dr. Grissom, they're locking the building."

Grissom looked back at the janitor. "I believe that you mentioned a coffee shop before?"

* * *

_What have I done?_

Grissom mentally kicked himself all the way to the coffee shop. He couldn't believe that he had made such a suggestion. Teachers and students weren't supposed to go out for coffee, were they?

He thought back, and realized that he had had several teachers who had taken him out for coffee to discuss classes in the past. They had all been special mentors who had helped to shape his career.

If he were honest with himself, that was exactly what he was hoping to do with Sara. She had told him that she wanted to continue on with her studies in physics, but he knew that she wasn't entirely sure that was what she wanted to do with her life. He hoped that something he said to her might trigger enough interest that she would consider jumping into forensics. This was one mind, one person, who belonged in forensics. He intended to do his best to get her there.

* * *

_Is this really happening?_

Sara felt completely giddy as she walked with Grissom to the coffee shop. She could hardly believe that he had suggested that they go for coffee to continue their conversation. Was this really about science, or something more? Teachers and students didn't go out for coffee, did they?

If she were honest with herself, she knew very well that she had been in classes and study groups that had gone out for coffee, lunch and dinner with professors before. She had even been a member of a class that had been invited to the professor's home for dinner. Maybe it wasn't all that odd or unusual.

But, a girl could dream, couldn't she?

* * *

With cups of steaming coffee in front of them, Grissom and Sara discussed the finer points of the lecture and the articles she had read. They continued on until she was sure that she had a good understanding of both.

"Thank you so much for taking so much time to help me with this," Sara said. "You really don't have to be so kind."

"I want to teach you," Grissom said simply.

Sara bit back a giggle at the thought of what Mary would say when she shared that comment later. "I really do appreciate it," she said.

Grissom looked at her for a moment. "May I ask you a question?"

Sara thought of the last time he had asked that, and the conversation it had led to. She wasn't sure if she was mentally ready for another question about her future. She looked at him a bit warily. "All right," she agreed.

Grissom smiled, reading the nerves in her eyes. "Tell me about yourself," he said.

Sara blinked at the abrupt subject change. "What?"

"Tell me about yourself," he repeated. "What made you go into physics?"

"I've always been a science geek," she said with a somewhat apologetic smile. "My high school physics teacher was the best. He really inspired me, and made me see the beauty in science."

Grissom never knew what happened in that moment. He didn't know if it was the words or the way she said them, or even if it was something else, like the sound of her voice or the shine in her eyes. But, whatever the cause, he suddenly realized exactly how beautiful Sara was. He had noticed how pretty she was on the first day of class, but, at that moment, he saw the true beauty in her. Even more, he saw her ability to see beauty where others only saw complications, and knew that he would never look at his world the same way again.

"Dr. Grissom?" she asked, a bit unsettled by the way he was studying her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said. He glanced at his watch. "I should probably be going."

"You're right," Sara said, looking at her own watch. "I have an early lab tomorrow."

Grissom signaled their waitress, who promptly brought the check. Sara reached for her wallet, but he waved her off.

"I'll get your coffee," he said.

Sara's eyes widened. "You don't have to do that."

"Don't worry about," he said. "You're still in school. I know how tight your money must be, and I know that you need to spend it on better things than coffee with an old man."

She smiled. "I don't think you're old."

The words were out before she could stop them, and she felt her cheeks growing warm. But, Grissom, apparently unaware of her embarrassment, smiled.

"Thank you."

Sara watched as he put the bills on the table, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the situation. "When I graduate and have a real job, I'll buy you a coffee," she promised.

He smiled at her. "I'll look forward to it."

Sara's heart skipped a beat.


	6. The Parting

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write. Once I got going on it, I had the best time. I just love it, and I'm so excited for you to read it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own _CSI_, _The Wizard of Oz_ or _The Simpsons_.

* * *

_The Parting_

Sara was practically giddy when she bounced back into her apartment. Mary was shocked to see her so animated.

"Where the hell have you been?" she greeted her. "Even you never spend this long chatting up your teacher after class."

"He took me out for coffee!" Sara exclaimed.

Mary shot up from her position lying on the couch. She looked at Sara with wide eyes. "He what?"

"They closed the building, but he said that we weren't done talking, and we went out for coffee!"

"What happened?"

Sara bounced down next to Mary on the couch, sitting on her own knees. "We talked about forensics."

Mary rolled her eyes. "How romantic."

"Then, I thanked him for spending so much time helping me, and he said that he wanted to teach me."

"I'll just bet he wants to teach you," Mary said with a knowing smile. "How is he in _anatomy_?"

Sara giggled. "How did I know you'd say something like that?"

Mary shrugged. "What can I say? I'm predictable." She grinned. "What happened then?"

"He asked me about myself … about why I went into science."

"And you said?"

"I told him about my high school physics teacher, and how much he helped me. I said …" She trailed off frowning slightly. "I think I said something about seeing the beauty in science."

Mary rolled her eyes again. "Sara Sidle, you are _such_ a geek."

"You're going to give me an ego problem if you keep up these compliments, you know."

Mary shook her head. "So, keep going. What happened then?"

"He just … _looked_ at me for a minute."

"Looked at you how?"

Sara's eyes took on a shine. "I don't even know how to describe it. It was like he had never seen me before, or never even seen anyone like me. It was as if … I were someone really special."

Mary grabbed her hands. "You _are_ someone really special."

"You know, everyone says that," Sara said, her giddiness melting into seriousness. "Starting with preschool, all kids are told is that they're special and talented, and that as long as they do their best, everything will be fine. I've never believed it. I've never thought that you should think that you're special just because someone says you are. It's like believing in monsters or fairies or princesses." She paused. "But, Mary, honestly, when he looked at me like that … I felt like it could be true."

"Like what could be true?"

Sara's cheeks flushed. "When I was a little girl, my mother always used to tell me that I was her princess. I believed her, too, for the longest time."

"How did you find out that you weren't?" Mary smiled.

Sara shrugged, not yet ready to share the dark secrets of her past with anyone – not even her best friend. "I guess we all learn that we aren't princesses at some point."

"True."

"But, Mary," she said quietly, her eyes beginning to shine again, "when he looked at me like that, it was like I was a little girl again, listening to my mother telling me that I was a princess. He made me feel so special, so …"

Mary's eyes took on a shine, too. "Did you say anything?"

"Are you kidding?" Sara exclaimed. "Nothing intelligent, at any rate. I …" Her voice trailed off and her cheeks burned red. "I asked him if he was okay. Can you believe that?"

Mary groaned. "Oh, Sara. What made you say that?"

"I don't know!" Sara cried. "I didn't know what to do, he looked so odd …"

Mary shook her head. "All right. We'll need to work on your game a little. What happened then?"

"He said that he was fine, but he needed to get home."

Mary shook her head. "Damn coward."

"Wait, I'm not done!"

"Okay, keep going, then."

"He got our check … and …"

"Ate it?" Mary asked, rolling her eyes.

"What?"

"Get on with your story! Stop building suspense!"

Sara laughed. "He paid for my coffee!"

"What?" Mary exclaimed. "Sara, that pretty much makes this a date! What did he say when he paid?"

"That I don't have much money, and I didn't need to waste it on coffee with an old man like him."

"What did you say?"

"That he's not an old man … and that I'd buy him a coffee once I graduate and have a real job."

"And he said …?"

Her eyes sparkled. "He said he'd look forward to it!"

Mary squealed. "Sara! This is fantastic! He's totally into you!"

"Do you really think so?"

"Definitely!"

Sara sighed and fell back against the pillows piled up on the end of the couch. "I don't know what to do, Mar."

"What is there to know?"

"How should I act during my next class?"

"The same way you have been," Mary said firmly. "He likes you for _you_, Sara. Why change who you are?" She paused. "And, seriously, if he didn't like you for you, what point would there be in pursuing him?"

"I guess you're right."

"I know I am," Mary said confidently. She squealed again. "So, when do I get to meet him?"

Sara grabbed a pillow from behind her and hit Mary with it. "Leave me alone."

"It was just a question!"

"You'll meet him … when we're engaged."

"Oh, that's kind."

"Hey, I need a maid of honor!"

Mary laughed. "I'll be your MOH … but only if I get to meet him before you have a ring on your finger."

Sara grinned. "Deal."

* * *

Grissom put his briefcase down next to his desk and kicked off his shoes. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but found himself too keyed up to even try. He couldn't stop thinking about Sara, and her thirst for knowledge.

Knowing that he needed to at least make an attempt at sleep, he went to his bedroom to change into his pajamas. As he pulled his shirt over his head, his eyes fell on the collection of books lining the small bookcase the university had provided. Even from across the room, he could see several titles that might interest Sara. He would have to remember to take them to class on Tuesday.

He had never had a student react to his lectures the way she had, and he had certainly never had a student seek so much outside reading on his or her own. He had never had a student who spent so much time working through the points that he made during class. In sort, he had never inspired anyone the way she was inspired.

He was thrilled with her response to his classes, but he didn't know how to handle it. He wanted desperately to suggest that she consider a career in law enforcement, but held back. He had already brought enough of himself into her life. He didn't want to push her into anything.

He made his way from the bedroom into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, an image of her smile floated through his mind. Parents were always so quick to fix imperfections in their children's appearance; he wasn't sure what had made hers decide to allow the slight gap between her front teeth remain. Regardless of the reason, he was glad that she had it. It was unique, it was attractive …

He shook his head and put his toothbrush away with slightly more force than was necessary. Trying to think of something else – _anything_ else – he returned to his bedroom and climbed into bed.

The idea of having romantic feelings for Sara pushed against the back of his mind, but he firmly turned it away. She was a student. She was brilliant and talented, she made him think and feel like few others had, and she was sweet and pretty, but she was a student. He had to remember that in his dealings with her.

Closing his eyes, he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"I'm nervous."

Mary shook her head. "You've been to class before. You've talked to him before. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"I know, but I'm still nervous."

"That's just stupid," Mary said. She paused, an evil smile crossing her face. "Tell you what. If you're so determined to be nervous, I'll give you something to be nervous about."

"Oh, I don't like the sound of this …"

"As well you shouldn't," Mary grinned. "I'm going to give you a task for tonight."

"Who are you, the Great and Terrible Oz? Will I get to go home to Kansas if I complete my task?"

Mary laughed. "Sure. But since when do you call Kansas home?"

"Since you turned me into Dorothy Gale," Sara laughed. "All right, woman behind the curtain, what is my task?"

"You need to find out some personal information about Grissom."

"What?" Sara exclaimed. "What sort of personal information are you looking for?"

Mary shrugged. "I'm not picky. It just has to be something that you don't already know."

Sara made a face. "You're evil."

Mary laughed. "And now you have a valid reason to be nervous."

* * *

Grissom did manage to remember to take the books to the next class. As he had anticipated, Sara stayed after class to talk to him. He smiled as he bid Tony farewell, and went to retrieve the books from his briefcase.

"I brought you something," he told her.

"What?" she asked, an excited smile spreading across her face.

"Some books I thought might interest you," he said, handing them over. "These are from my personal library."

"Thank you," she said, taking the books as though they were treasures. "I'll be very careful with them – I'll have them back to you as soon as possible – this means so much to me –"

"Sara," he said, holding up a hand to stop her, "stop babbling. I know you're grateful, and I know you'll take good care of them. And don't worry about when you give them back to me. Take your time, and learn all you can."

"I will," she promised. 'Thank you so much, Dr. Grissom."

"You're welcome." He smiled at her. "Now, let's get to the questions you've brought with you tonight."

They talked about the lecture points for quite some time. As their conversation wound down, Sara drew her courage together, and quoted Grissom.

"May I ask you a question?"

He smiled. "You've been doing so since we met."

"Yes, but this would be a bit more … personal."

Grissom expertly masked the emotions that were running through him. "All right," he said a bit cautiously.

"What made you decide to teach this seminar?"

Grissom frowned.

"I mean, you've talked so much about how much you love your job, I just didn't understand why you'd want to leave it to teach – especially so far from home."

Grissom worked to keep up with her speech – Sara could speak extremely quickly when she wanted to.

"Will you please tell me?" she asked quietly.

He smiled. "Of course. I wanted to teach this seminar to share my love of my job with others. I love to teach and … to help others find the beauty in the details, if you will. That's why I chose to do this." He paused. "You mentioned being far from home … I'm not, really."

She nodded. "I suppose Vegas isn't that far away, when you think about it."

"Well, that's true, but it's not exactly what I meant," Grissom said. "I'm actually from California."

"Are you?" she asked excitedly. "So am I! What part?"

"I grew up around Venice Beach," he said, smiling. "You?"

"I'm from outside San Francisco."

"Do you miss it? San Francisco?"

"A bit," she said cautiously. She didn't want this to become a discussion about her childhood. "Do you miss Venice?"

"A bit," he echoed. "I miss my mother more than the area. I love living in Vegas."

"I've never thought of it as a residential area," Sara admitted. "I've always thought of it as a vacation destination."

"You're not alone in that," he said. "But, if no one lived there, it wouldn't be a vacation destination – it would be a desert."

"True enough," she smiled.

The janitor appeared in the doorway. "Hello," he said.

Grissom smiled at Sara. "I suppose that it's time to say good night."

"Yeah," she agreed, standing up. "Thanks for all your help, Dr. Grissom."

"You're welcome," he smiled. "I'll see you on Thursday."

"See you then."

Sara left the room feeling elated. She could hardly wait to tell Mary that she had completed her task.

* * *

After the initial question and answer session, Grissom and Sara found themselves sharing more of their lives every time they met after class. During the next two weeks, Grissom learned that Sara had nursed the childhood dream of being a ballerina, but that her parents had denied the lessons, wanting their daughter to avoid choosing a gender-based profession.

"Did you point out that there are plenty of male ballerinas?"

She rolled her eyes. "I won't even _tell_ you what my father said to that remark."

Sara learned that Grissom had minored in English literature in undergrad, and sometimes wished he had pursued a second degree in British literature – not because he wanted to change professions, but because he wanted to study the subject.

"I've found a good balance, though," he said.

"Oh?"

He nodded. "I quote Shakespeare to my colleagues all the time." He smiled. "I think it makes them crazy, but that does add to the fun."

They discovered that they were both only children, that they both believed in public education as opposed to private, they both watched _The Simpsons_, and they both voted democrat. Neither had ever been married, neither liked talk shows, and neither had been popular in high school. While Grissom had been his college best friend's best man, Sara had never been in a wedding – she had only ever even attended one. Grissom loved classical music, Sara loved classic rock and top 40 songs.

As she talked with him, laughed with him and shared stories with him, Sara found herself falling harder and harder for Grissom. And, although he would never admit it – not even to himself – Grissom was falling for her, too.

Both found themselves dreading the end of the seminar.

* * *

The last day of the seminar finally arrived. Sara felt completely miserable as she dressed to go to class.

"Oh, cheer up," Mary said, sitting on Sara's bed, watching her sort through her clothes for the perfect top. "It's not the end of the world."

"It's been six weeks, Mar," Sara said. "If he wanted to ask me out, he's had six weeks to do it." She sighed. "We were so sure that he was into me. What happened?"

"Guys are dumb," Mary said. "Look, Sara, if we're honest, this is probably for the best. I know that unrequited love sucks, but it was doomed from the beginning. I mean, the man lives in Vegas and you go to school here! Do you really think that he'd leave his job to come and live here with you?"

"No," Sara admitted rather reluctantly.

"Probably not," Mary agreed. "And, there is no way I'd let you drop out of school before finishing your degree to go chase after some man. My own mother, who wants me married off, would kill me if I tried something like that!"

"Yeah, I doubt my mom would be thrilled," Sara said, knowing that they were the right words to use, even if she doubted that her mother would much care what she did.

"So, this is for the best," Mary concluded. "You'll have a lovely class tonight, you'll stay after to say good bye to him, then we'll all go back to our normal lives. If nothing else, you've learned something about forensics and found a potential new career path. Oh, and there is the fact that we've all learned that you _can_ still be attracted to men."

Sara laughed. "As opposed to being attracted to women? You know that I'm straight."

"Attracted to anyone, then," Mary said. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm still trying to get over the fact that you turned down Tom."

"Oh, that reminds me – he asked for your number."

"_What_?" Mary shrieked, jumping off the bed. "When?"

"At our lab this morning."

"And you're just telling me _now_?'

Sara shrugged. "I forgot. I gave it to him … although, since it's my number, he already had it. I think he was feeling out the situation to see if I thought you'd go out with him."

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Mary exclaimed, dancing on the spot like a little girl. "Sara! This is the most exciting news ever!"

Sara laughed. "I'm so glad you're taking this calmly."

Mary threw a pillow at her. "Can't you let me be excited?"

"Of course," Sara grinned, putting the pillow back on the bed.

Mary grabbed the pillow and hugged it to her chest. "Oh, our children will have his green eyes …"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Remember what you just said. No quitting school to get married."

"Promise," Mary said. She squealed. "I'm so excited, and he hasn't even called yet!"

Sara laughed, and looked at the clock. "I have to go. Will you be all right here by yourself?"

"I think so," Mary laughed. "Listen, Sara, try to enjoy your last class. Don't get all caught up in the good byes."

"I'll try," Sara sighed. She grabbed her school bag. "I'll see you later, Mary."

"Bye, hon!"

* * *

Grissom used his last lecture to tie up all the loose ends that remained from previous classes, and to answer any questions that the students might have. Sara and Tony both asked multiple questions; somehow, he knew that they would both still wait to talk to him after class.

His star students did not disappoint. They both waited as their classmates left the room. As was their tradition, Tony spoke with Grissom first. He thanked him profusely for sharing his knowledge and for being an inspiration. Although Grissom appreciated the sentiment, he had a feeling that Tony was being a bit less than sincere. Grissom knew that Tony was a brilliant student, but he also knew that the questions he asked were more about brown-nosing a teacher than about seeking further knowledge. Even so, he was glad that Tony felt that he had gotten something out of the seminar.

When their conversation had ended and Tony had left the room, Grissom turned to Sara. She looked up at him with a bittersweet smile. Grissom was sure that her feelings were reflected in his own eyes. He was so glad that he had met her, yet was sad to leave her. This young woman was his true equal intellectually, and understood him in ways that he had never thought anyone would. How could he possibly say good bye to her?

She didn't want to say good bye any more than he did. They talked until the janitor arrived to ask them to leave. Grissom looked at her, and knew that he couldn't say the words he needed to say. He could not bid her farewell – not yet. He settled for his usual fallback option: putting off the inevitable.

"Would you like to have coffee with me?"

A beaming smile broke out across Sara's face. "I'd love to."

The cup of coffee did delay the imminent good byes. When they had finished their drinks, the waitress brought their check. Again, Sara reached for her wallet. Again, Grissom stopped her.

"I'll get it," he said.

Sara frowned. "You've already bought me coffee once," she protested.

"You're still a college student, and I'm still a working adult," he said. "I don't want to offend you, but I'm fairly sure that I have more money to spend on coffee than you do. I'll take care of it."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You know, this means that I owe you two coffees."

He smiled. "When you have a job, call me. We'll get together for coffee, and I'll let you pay."

"I'd like that," she said, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

He smiled again, and rose from the booth. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to do that," she said automatically. Inwardly, she rejoiced at his words.

"I know. But, it's late, and I'll feel better if I know that you arrive home safely."

"Well, thank you."

"You're welcome."

They walked slowly to Sara's apartment, talking as they made their way across the campus. They walked so slowly, in fact, that she was sure it had never taken her so long to go from the coffee shop to her building. She wasn't bothered by it, though. The more time she could spend with him, the better.

At last, they arrived at her building. There was nothing more that could be done to delay the inevitable.

"Well, here we are," Sara said.

"Here we are," Grissom repeated. "Listen, Sara, I'm not very good at this, but … I've really enjoyed getting to know you. You're a brilliant woman, and I know that you'll do extremely well in whatever field you choose. I wish …"

"You wish what?" she whispered.

He smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter." He reached into his pocket. "This is my business card. It has all my work numbers – office, cell phone, pager – on the front, along with my email. I've written my home number on the back, if you'd rather get in touch with me there."

"Thank you," she said, taking the card almost reverently.

"You can thank me by keeping in touch," he said. "I … I consider you a friend, Sara, and I know enough not to let a good friend get away from me."

Unexpected tears filled her eyes. "I'll email you. I promise."

He stepped a bit closer. "Tonight?"

She nodded. "Tonight."

He smiled. "I guess this isn't really good bye, then, is it?"

"No, I guess not." She paused, then knew that she couldn't stop the words. "I'm glad you're my friend, too, Dr. Grissom," she blurted out. "You've really made a difference in my life, and … I'm really glad that I don't have to say good bye to you tonight."

He smiled wider. "Thank you, Sara." They didn't seem like the right words, but he knew the words to express his true feelings didn't exist.

"Thank _you_, too – for everything."

Without really meaning to, he reached up to touch her cheek. "I'll miss you," he said softly.

Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she leaned into his touch. "I'll miss you, too," she whispered.

He smiled again. "Good night, Sara."

"Good night."

She stood still, watching his retreating back as he walked away. Once he had disappeared into the darkness, the tears began to fall. She really, truly would miss him.


	7. The Long Distance Relationship

A/N: Thank you as always for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter!

I don't own CSI, Angry Beavers or Sesame Street. Oh, and this story contains a shout-out line to Austin Powers, which I also don't own. But, if you can find it, you get 10 bonus points on the next quiz!

* * *

_The Long Distance Relationship_

_Dr. Grissom:_

_Hi! As promised, I'm sending you an email tonight. This means that you have my email address, and that you have to reply to me. _

_Thank you again for all the work that you put into the seminar. I learned so much, and I know that I wouldn't have learned half of what I did if you hadn't been so kind and willing to teach me outside of class. I just want you to know that I really do appreciate everything that you did for me. _

_I hope to hear from you soon. I'd love to hear more about your life in Las Vegas. _

_Sincerely,_

_Sara Sidle_

The email was waiting in his inbox when he arrived back at his tiny apartment after walking Sara home. Grissom read the email she had sent three times. The smile that had initially crossed his face when he saw her name in the list of received emails had spread into a grin by the time he had read it for the last time.

He rolled his cursor over the reply button, but stopped himself. What did he have to say to her? "You're welcome?" No, he wanted to send her a message with more than just that. He'd wait until he was back in Vegas and had something substantial to tell her.

He closed his email and turned off his laptop in preparation for packing it safely into its case. He looked around, realizing exactly how much packing he had left to do before his morning flight the next day. Sighing, he got up and got to work.

* * *

As his flight landed in Las Vegas, Grissom felt the excitement course through his veins. He could hardly wait to get back to work. He wondered what cases he had missed, what cases he need to go over, what court dates loomed before him, how Nick and Warrick were doing, how Catherine had done taking over his position as second in command of the shift …

As it was, he didn't have to wait long for an update on his job; Catherine and Jim had come to the airport to greet him. He was rather shocked to see them when he stepped off the jet way; they had never told him that they planned to pick him up at the airport. He had intended to take a cab home.

"Welcome back!" Catherine said cheerfully.

"You didn't have to come to meet me," he said.

"We knew you'd want an update on the lab," Jim said. "And, we figured a free ride home wouldn't hurt."

"You really just came to update me on the lab?" Grissom asked incredulously.

"Well, we also wanted to make sure that you were really coming back to work," Catherine said as they walked to baggage claim. "You had us a bit worried."

Grissom frowned. "What? Why were you worried?"

"The lack of communication had Catherine tied up in knots," Jim explained. "She can't handle going so long without talking to you."

Grissom laughed at that. "Catherine, you knew that I was a phone call away the whole time. You could have called me every day if you had wanted."

"I think she was worried that there was a new woman in your life," Jim said in a loud whisper.

Grissom rolled his eyes, and Catherine shook her head.

"Jim, you always have to go there, don't you? Isn't it enough that my husband barely believes that I'm not sleeping with Gil? Do you have to perpetuate the rumors?"

"Wait," Grissom said quickly. "I thought you said that Eddie was over that. I thought you said that you had convinced him that we're not – and never have been and never will be – together."

"Well, he still has his moments," Catherine said slowly. Sorrow filled her eyes. "I think my marriage is on the way out."

"I'm sorry," Grissom said quietly.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

"It's his as much as yours," Brass said. "You can't take all the blame, Catherine."

"I won't," she promised. "Besides, we're in counseling, so I'm hoping for the best. I really want this to work – for us and for Linds." She looked at Grissom again and smiled. "Will you tell us all about your trip?"

"It was very nice," Grissom said. "I had a great bunch of students to teach."

"Anyone special?"

"What do you mean by 'special'?" He reached down to grab his bag as it cycled past him.

"I don't know … anyone who stood out."

"Two, as a matter of fact. Tony and Sara."

"Did you bring them back in your luggage?" Brass asked as he took Grissom's first suitcase while Grissom went back for the second. "What did you pack in here? This had better not be a body that you brought back to study …"

Grissom smiled slightly. "Books, Jim. Just books."

Brass shook his head. "You scientists and your books."

"So, what have I missed here?" Grissom asked, having retrieved his second suitcase.

"Watching your little boys grow up," Brass said. "Catherine tells me that Nicky and Warrick are both nearly ready to go to Level II."

"Warrick, too?" Grissom asked in surprise. "I never expected him to catch up to Nick so quickly."

Catherine shrugged. "What can I say? You're a good teacher."

"And, I think they're really driving each other," Brass added. "They've become great friends, and I think a little healthy competition between friends often leads to excellent results. If it's all right with both of you, I'd like to promote Nick first. He does have seniority, and I think it would mean a lot to him."

Grissom and Catherine exchanged a look and nodded.

"Good. Then, we'll promote him effective next week – Gil, you can give him the good news – and we'll promote Warrick in a month or two. Fair enough?"

"I like it," Catherine replied.

"Fine," Grissom added.

"Good. All right, troops, let's get Gil home so we all can get back to work."

* * *

_Dear Sara,_

_Thank you for sending me an email. It was great to hear from you. You are very welcome for all the extra help during the seminar. It was a pleasure teaching you._

_I'm home in Vegas. I thought you'd want to know that I made it safely. I'm settling in again, and getting back into the swing of things at the lab. Nick, one of the new CSIs that I've been training, will be promoted to Level II next week. I'm so happy for him. He's going to be thrilled when we tell him. _

_I've only been back a day, and I already have two new cases that I'm working. One is a smash and grab, and the other is a homicide. Obviously, the homicide is a bit trickier, but I think we'll have it solved soon enough. I'm working that case with Nick and Catherine, one of my other colleagues. I'm working the smash and grab with Warrick, the newest CSI on our team. I can't give you any more details, particularly not in an email, but once the cases are closed, I'll tell you all about them. I think you'll enjoy the full stories. _

_I hope to hear from you soon. Please keep me updated on your news._

_Sincerely,_

_Grissom_

Sara read the email twice before it really hit her. He had emailed her! They really were going to stay in touch. She felt her fingers shaking with excitement.

"Mary!" she yelled. "Mary, come here and see this!"

Mary ran into the room, her eyes wide with alarm. "What?" she exclaimed.

"Look! I got an email from Grissom!"

Mary leaned over her shoulder to read the brief missive. She smiled. "Very nice, Sara. He really does care about you. He answered your email really quickly."

Sara turned to look at her. "You don't seem as excited as I thought you'd be."

Mary sighed. "Sara, I'm worried that you're getting your hopes up for nothing."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sara asked, feeling anger bubbling just below the surface of her emotions.

"Just that he's in Vegas and you're here …"

"And?" Sara asked, daring her to continue.

"And it's a long drive from friendship to love," Mary said. "It's even longer if you never see each other."

"Who said anything about love?" Sara asked. "We're friends, Mary. We've been friends from the beginning. You said yourself that it was better this way."

"I know, it's just …"

"Just _what_?"

"Nothing, I guess," Mary said. She smiled. "If you two can make this long distance thing work, more power to you."

"It's just long distance friendship," Sara reminded her.

"I know," Mary said. "But, sometimes, that can be as hard as long distance romance."

"What do you know about long distance romance? Tom is right here."

Mary's face flushed with excitement and embarrassment. "We haven't even had our first date yet."

"But it's tomorrow, right?"

"Right."

Sara smiled. "You're going to have a great time with him. I know it."

"I hope so," Mary replied.

"He knows better than to do anything to hurt you," Sara said. "If he does, I can find way too many ways to 'accidentally' injure him in the lab."

Mary laughed. "I'm so glad to have a brave protector."

"No one hurts my friends – especially not my best friend."

* * *

_Hi, Grissom,_

_Tell your friend Nick that I said congratulations on his promotion. Has it happened yet? How are your cases going?_

_Our new fall semester starts tomorrow, so I just went out today to buy all my books. I won't even tell you how much they cost – but it was way more than they're worth, I'm sure. Ah, well, it's for a good cause. _

_This will be my last semester of school. I took so many summer classes that I'll get done a semester early. I'm really excited, but a bit nervous, too. My roommate, Mary, won't be done until the spring. I told her that she didn't work hard enough! No, I'm kidding – Mary works as hard as anyone. She's just smarter about spacing her classes out, I suppose. She didn't nearly kill herself in the pursuit of an early graduation, at any rate. _

_She actually just started dating my lab partner, Tom. I hope that things work out for them. Of course I'd like to see my friends happy, but, on a selfish note, it could get tricky for me to be stuck in the middle of their arguments if things go badly. _

_Well, I'm sure I've bored you with enough gossip at this point. Let me know how you're doing. _

_Hoping to hear from you soon,_

_Sara_

Grissom couldn't stop the smile that lit up his face as he read Sara's latest email. He was so engrossed in it that he didn't even hear Catherine walk into his office.

"Interesting reading?" she asked lightly. "You look awfully happy – I was sure that we had a firewall that blocked porn."

"Not all men are into porn," Grissom replied, looking up from his computer screen. "I was just reading an email."

"From whom?"

"You're awfully nosy."

"I know," Catherine smiled. "Does that mean that you're not going to tell me?"

Grissom sighed. "It's from one of my students from the seminar."

"Ah," Catherine replied, studying him closely. "I'd say that the author would be the Sara that you mentioned."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"I can't imagine an email from Tony making you smile like that," she explained. "Okay, Gil, out with it. What happened between you and Sara?"

"Nothing," Grissom said honestly. "She's a brilliant student and a great person. We became friends. I'd like to keep her as a friend. That's all."

"Nothing more?" Catherine asked suspiciously.

"Catherine, she's a graduate student. I'm sure she has far better romantic options than an old man who lives a plane ride away."

"Stop calling yourself old," Catherine admonished. "You're not that much older than me – if you're old, I'm old."

"But, you, my dear, don't look it."

"Neither do you," she smiled. "Stop sweet-talking me in an effort to throw me off. Do you realize how many suspects try that on me in a day?"

"Yes," he replied, thinking of how many tried it on him.

"Look, Gil, just be careful with this girl," Catherine cautioned. "I know that you're not planning on anything beyond friendship, but she might have different ideas about you."

Grissom shook his head. "I don't think so."

"All right," Catherine agreed. "But, just in case …"

"I'll be careful," he promised.

"Good. Now, let's go find Nicky and give him his promotion."

Grissom picked up the new badge Nick would receive, and offered it to Catherine.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"You've worked with him almost as much as I have," he said. "I'll tell him he's been promoted, and you give him his badge."

"Thanks, Grissom," she smiled, taking the badge from him.

They left his office together. They found both Nick and Warrick in the break room with Brass, laughing together over something they were watching on tv.

"Cartoons again?" Catherine asked, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, come on, Cath," Nick defended. "The _Angry Beavers_ are cool! You're a mom. Don't you watch this stuff?"

"We're still in the _Sesame Street_ phase," Catherine replied.

"Hey, Griss, how do you feel about cartoons?" Warrick asked.

"That would depend entirely on the cartoon," Grissom said. "But, for now, can we turn this off?"

Brass, knowing what was coming, quickly turned off the television.

"Whoa, this seems serious," Nick said, looking at Warrick a bit uneasily.

"It is serious," Brass said.

"Are we in trouble?" Warrick asked.

"On the contrary," Grissom said with a smile. "We have some very good news for you."

"Good news we can do," Warrick said. "What is it?"

Grissom smiled again, and turned his attention to Nick. "Nicky, we've all be working together for over a year now, and we – Catherine, Jim and I – have been very impressed with your work. You have completed all the tasks and cases we've required of you – all the tasks and cases necessary to move up."

Nick's eyes grew round as he realized what Grissom was saying.

Grissom grinned at the look on Nick's face. "As your direct supervisor, it is my honor to promote you to CSI Level II."

"No way!" Nick exclaimed.

"Way," Brass said, pulling some paperwork out of his briefcase. "And, as your supervisor's supervisor – and your shift supervisor – I'd like to ask you to sign in the three places marked with an X to make this official."

"And, I'd like to ask you to trade me your old badge for this one," Catherine said, extending his new identification.

"All right," Nick said. His grin stretched from ear to ear. "Thanks so much, guys. This is great!" He laughed. "Woo-hoo!"

"Congratulations, Nick," Warrick said.

"Now we just have to get this guy up at Level II with me," Nick said, playfully punching Warrick's arm.

"His day will come soon enough," Grissom said, looking at his newest CSIs with undisguised pride. "You've both impressed us all."

* * *

_Hello, Sara,_

_How are your new classes going? You'll have to let me know what you're learning – or, at the very least, your textbook titles. I want to make sure I'm keeping up with the academic community. _

_Congratulations on being so close to graduation! You must be so excited. The entire world is open to you now. I thought that was the most daunting part of graduating: trying to decide where to go and what to do once I didn't have the same school to return to anymore. _

_Thanks for asking about Nick. I'll certainly pass your congratulations on to him. He was promoted last week. It was not a huge ceremony, but all of us from the shift got together to give him his new badge, then we took him out for breakfast. He was really excited, and we were all excited for him. Now, we just have to get Warrick up to Level II. _

_My cases are both closed. The smash and grab was in a jewelry store in the mall. It was classic, really – one person handled the clerk while the other smashed a case in and stole all the jewelry. It was mostly men's watches. One of our undercover cops caught them selling the watches on the street. Not exactly the brightest of the bright, those two._

_My homicide was a bit more involved. It was sad, really – a man had killed his mother. He wanted his inheritance a bit before it was due to him. He was really careful about the whole thing – no fingerprints anywhere near the body. Of course, we found his fingerprints in the house, but that's to be expected – it was his mother's house. In the end, we were tipped off by how quickly he had cashed in her life insurance policy. Grieving son, indeed. _

_My newest case is a double homicide. Again, details to follow._

_Please let me know how things are going for you._

_Grissom_

Again, Sara found herself weak in the knees from reading an email from him. Unfortunately, she was going to be late for class if she lingered, so there wasn't enough time to read it over three times and let herself turn into an emotional puddle. She ran out her apartment door, rushing to make it to class before the professor began her lecture.

She slid into her seat next to Tony just before class began. He gave her a smile.

"Run all the way here?" he asked.

"Just about," she replied. "I was checking my email, and I lost track of things."

"Yeah, I've done that," he said. "Listen, Mary and I are meeting for dinner after class. Do you want to join us?"

She looked at him closely, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his question. "Are you sure I won't be a third wheel?"

"You?" Tom asked. "Never. You're Mary's best friend, Sara, and you and I have been friends for awhile, too."

She smiled. "So, basically, you're promising me that it won't get weird?"

"That's exactly what I'm promising," Tom smiled.

"All right, then, I'll come – if for no other reason than to test your sincerity."

* * *

Dinner with her roommate and her roommate's new boyfriend turned out to be fun. Mary and Tom were very conscious of the fact that they had been Sara's friends long before they had been each other's love interests, and worked to keep their "cuteness," as Sara and Mary called it, to a minimum.

"This was fun," Sara said as Tom walked the girls back to their apartment. "We'll have to do it again."

"Definitely," Mary agreed.

"Let's make it our Monday / Wednesday tradition," Tom suggested.

Sara and Mary both looked at him.

"We all get out of class at the same time," he said. "Sara and I are in class together, and Mary, you're close enough for us all to get together. Don't you think it would be a nice idea?"

Mary reached down to grab his hand. "I think it's a great idea," she said, lacing her fingers through his. "Sara?"

"I'm game," Sara replied. She grinned. "Tom, are you doing this just so you can look like a pimp with a lady on each arm?"

He laughed. "I hadn't thought about it, but now that you mention it …"

Mary swatted him. "You'd better not be running around this school with a lady on each arm."

"I wouldn't do that," he said, smiling down at her.

Sara looked away, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. But, in a moment, it was over, and Mary was joking with her as though Tom were a friend, not her boyfriend.

Sara joined in the banter, but inwardly sighed. She loved Mary and had always liked Tom, but she hated the thought of losing her best friend to him.

* * *

_Hi, Grissom,_

_Congratulations on solving your cases! I loved reading about them – you'll have to tell me all about the current case, too. I'd love as many details as you can give me. It's truly fascinating._

_My classes are going well. I've attached a list of my textbooks and required reading for this semester. I'm nearly done with my thesis, too. If you wouldn't mind, could I send it to you to look over? I'd love to get your opinion on what I've written. I'm pretty proud of it, but I'd like to have it read by a set of impartial eyes before I turn it in to my advisor._

_I'm going to take next semester off and work a bit – probably at a coffee shop or something. I'm not done with school, though; I've applied to the doctoral programs at five different universities. I'm hoping to hear back from them soon – the waiting is killing me! Mary, my roommate, keeps telling me that I'm worrying over nothing, and that I'll surely get in. I just hope that she's right._

_But, being the compulsive worrier that I am, I can't just leave it alone, so I'm formulating a back up plan. If I can't start my doctorate in the fall, I'm going to have to find a real job. I suppose that starting to pay back all my student loans wouldn't be such a bad thing. I'm looking at several labs that need physicists – including the crime lab in San Francisco. I'm not entirely sure if I'll apply just yet, but I wanted you to know that I'm thinking about it. It was your influence that led me to consider it, so, thank you for that._

_Well, I need to get going – I have to meet my lab group. I'll "talk" to you soon._

_Sara_

Excitement coursed through Grissom as he read her email. From beginning to end, he was thrilled with what she was telling him. Without stopping to think, he wrote one of the shortest emails he had ever sent her.

_Sara,_

_I would love to read your thesis. Send it to me as soon as you'd like._

_I can't tell you how excited I am to hear that you're thinking of applying to the San Francisco crime lab. Let me know if you do decide to apply – I have some contacts there that could really help you._

_I can't wait to hear from you again._

_Grissom_


	8. The Career Shift

A/N: Thanks again for following my story! I really do thank you for reading, and even more for reviewing – I love to read what you think!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Career Shift_

"Grissom, do you have a minute?"

Grissom looked up from the lay out table to see Catherine standing in the doorway. A young man hovered behind her. "Sure."

Catherine smiled and stepped fully into the room, bringing her shadow with her. "Gil Grissom, I'd like you to meet Greg Sanders, our new DNA tech."

"Hi," Greg said with a wide smile.

"Hello," Grissom replied. "Welcome to CSI." He looked at Catherine quizzically. "Why are you showing him around?"

"Brass's orders. He wants him to meet everyone on night shift, since he'll be working with us," she said. "Have you seen Nick and Warrick? They still need to meet Greg."

"They were headed to the garage to process our vic's car," Grissom said.

"Okay, we'll go there, then. Thanks, Grissom."

"You're welcome."

"It was nice meeting you," Greg said.

"You, too," Grissom replied. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Greg said, looking at Catherine a bit nervously.

She smiled. "Don't let him scare you," she said as they headed for the door. "He's making it sound worse than it is." She winked at Grissom. "He's probably the toughest one here, but I've worked with him for years, and I have yet to see him actually hurt another person."

Greg gave her a look that said that her words had done little to make him feel better. "Right," he said slowly.

"Come on," she said, winking at Grissom again.

Catherine led Greg out of the room, and Grissom turned back to the pictures he had spread out across the table. He studied them with a practiced eye, making connections between the various points of the case. Nick and Warrick should be present for this. They needed to learn to make these connections. He should have insisted that they stay with him until they had finished with the pictures. He shouldn't have let them go to the garage alone, regardless of how eager they were to get to work on the car.

Then again, they needed the chance to prove themselves. They needed the opportunity to work without him or Catherine or Brass watching their every move. He had been a part of the training process of enough CSIs to know that a good mentor let his students fly on their own. It was the only way they could truly learn to stand on their own, to make their own decisions, and to work their own cases.

He hoped that Sara would have a mentor with that sort of mental attitude. She, too, needed the benefit of working with someone who had enough years of experience to be a good teacher. He knew that she had all the characteristics of a good criminalist. With the proper training, he knew that she would become a great CSI.

_If_ she became a CSI. She still hadn't told him for sure that she was going to pursue the job in San Francisco. Every time he received a new email from her, he hoped to read the news of her decision one way or the other, but thus far, he had been disappointed.

That "disappointment" was finding its way into his inbox more and more frequently. During the few months since he had returned to Las Vegas, he and Sara had reached the point of emailing each other once a day. He knew that Catherine would be upset if she knew how much he emailed Sara. She had not said a word about her after warning him to be careful with her, but Catherine never forgot anything – including bits of advice dispensed to her socially backward colleague. She would undoubtedly take such frequent emails as a sign of a blossoming romance.

But, in Grissom's eyes it could not be further from a romance. Sara was a student who needed his assistance, a friend who needed his guidance, a potential mentee in search of a mentor, but she was not a romantic interest. All he desired from her was friendship and professional camaraderie.

He was sure that she wanted the same things from their relationship. What more could she possibly want?

* * *

Sara never forgot that Monday evening in late November. It was one of the days that would stand out in her mind as a turning point, a time of great clarity about the future. The day started out normally enough, leaving few clues to what the evening held. She had no idea when she left her apartment that morning that her entire world was on the verge of a massive shift.

She attended classes, labs and study sessions as usual. As was their Monday and Wednesday tradition, she, Mary and Tom went to dinner at the conclusion of their evening classes. After dinner, Tom walked the girls back to their apartment. He declined their invitation to come in, but kissed Mary good night and left them at their door. Mary turned to Sara with a glowing smile.

"Come on, let's go inside."

Sara nodded and unlocked the door. As soon as they were both inside, Mary squealed.

"Oh, Sara, thank you so much for introducing us!"

Sara grinned. "What can I say? I bring people together."

"I'm being serious," Mary said. "Sara, I truly think I'm falling in love with him."

Sara's eyes rounded as a thousand emotions – including happiness, fear, anger and jealousy – coursed through her. "What?"

Mary nodded. "Truly. I'm not just infatuated – this is much more. It's deeper. I think … I really do think I'm falling in love."

The emotions squeezing around her heart intensified. For some inexplicable reason, tears filled her eyes. "Oh," was all she could manage.

"Sara?" Mary said, stepping closer. "Are you all right?"

Without warning, Sara began to sob. Mary was there in an instant, pulling her into a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry," Sara choked out. "I don't know what's wrong with me, I don't know why I'm crying …"

"Just cry," Mary said, feeling tears fill her own eyes.

Trying to laugh it off, Sara brushed at her cheeks, trying to stem the flow of tears. "I'm sorry," she said again, this time in a much more controlled voice. "I don't know what happened to me."

"It's emotional," Mary said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Sara gave her a shaky smile. "Look, whatever weird emotion it is that's making me cry, it doesn't change the fact that I'm incredibly happy for you – and for Tom. You've been my best friend for years, and Tom is great … I know you two will be happy together."

"Okay, don't go all wedding on me yet," Mary smiled. "I don't know how he feels about me. I could be falling for someone who just wants sex."

Sara shook her head. "Tom's not that type of guy. If he's sleeping with you, it's because he has real, deep feelings for you."

Mary's eyes began to shine again. "Do you really think so?"

"Mary. This is the man who walks me home after class because he can't let a girl walk across campus alone. He's a true gentleman – in every sense of the word."

"I can think of a few ways he's not completely gentlemanly," Mary said, her eyes sparkling.

Sara threw her hands up over her ears. "No!" she yelled. "I don't want to know!"

Laughing, Mary pulled Sara's hands away. "I'll stop, I promise."

"Thank you."

"Oh, Sara," Mary sighed. She smiled. "We need to find you a man, too. I want you to feel about someone the way I feel about Tom."

Sara smiled a bittersweet smile. "I think that some people are just meant to be alone."

"Oh, stop."

"No, really." She sighed. "Mar, the one man I really, truly wanted left me and went to Vegas. Now, all I do is wait for him to email me. I get so excited when I see his name in my inbox … I'm ridiculous about the whole thing. Every email he's sent has just been newsy and conversational, yet every time I see his name, I think I'm going to read some declaration of love. I never will, and …"

"And you need to move on," Mary said, grabbing her hands. "You need to find someone else to want."

Sara shook her head. "I'm not ready. I still want him."

"Can I be totally honest?"

"Yes."

"Even if it hurts?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Just rip off the band aid, Mary!"

Mary took a deep breath. "He doesn't want you," she said bluntly. "If he did, he would have asked you to go to Vegas with him. The closest he came was gently nudging you toward forensics."

Sara looked at her for a minute. "I'm going to bed," she said abruptly.

"It's nine thirty," Mary said in disbelief.

"I have an early lab tomorrow," Sara said, getting up from her seat on the couch.

"Sara, wait."

Sara stopped in the doorway of the living room. "I know that I told you that I would be fine with brutal honesty. I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm mad at myself."

"Do you want to talk?" Mary asked gently.

"Not right now."

"Sara …"

"Please, Mar, just let me be alone."

"All right," Mary sighed. "Good night."

"Good night."

Sara made her way into her bedroom. She closed the door, and leaned back against it, letting the tears roll down her cheeks.

Mary was right, and Sara knew it. If Grissom truly wanted to be involved with her, he would have asked her to move to Vegas with him. He would have asked her to give up her dreams of finishing her degree to work with him in his lab. He would have proposed that they try to work out a relationship.

But, he had not asked her to do anything except to consider a career in forensics.

Laughing sadly, Sara stepped away from the door and sat down on her bed. She had told him that she was considering it, and he had seemed pleased…

She wiped away her tears and sat up a bit straighter. Maybe this was how it was supposed to happen. Sara wasn't a huge believer in fate, but she did think that some things were meant to be. Maybe this whole … thing … with Grissom was designed to force her to consider a career in forensics. Maybe she belonged in a crime lab. Maybe her true mission in life should be to bring criminals to justice for the horrors they inflicted on others.

Maybe …

* * *

"Mary! Where are you?"

Mary opened her door and poked her head out. "I thought you went to bed an hour ago."

Sara grinned at her. "Who can go to sleep at nine thirty?"

"Six year olds," Mary replied. She studied Sara carefully. "You look better. Have you mentally processed everything?"

"Yes."

"Good." Mary looked at her expectantly, waiting for more. Sara always needed a build-up before she got to the heart of a story.

"I was thinking about what you said – that all Grissom has done is to push me toward forensics."

"Right?"

"Well … that might have worked."

"What? I thought you were going for the PhD! You've been accepted by three different schools, one of which was your first choice …"

"I know," Sara said. "But, Mary, I'm really thinking about forgetting the PhD and going into forensics."

"Sara, you've wanted a doctorate all your life! How can you walk away from that?"

"I know," Sara sighed. "Believe me, this wasn't an easy choice."

Mary narrowed her eyes. "Are you doing this to impress him?"

"I'm doing this because it interests me," Sara said. "Look, I can get my acceptance deferred. I'll try it out for a year and see what happens."

"I don't know …"

"Do you believe in fate?" Sara asked suddenly.

"Yes," Mary said slowly. "But I thought that you didn't."

"In some cases, I do," Sara said. "In _this_ case, I do."

"You're going to need to give me a little more."

"I had never thought of going into law enforcement," Sara said. "Never. But, after listening to Grissom talk, after reading the accounts of his cases, I'm starting to think that it could be the perfect place for me." She paused. "I'd like to help the victims," she said quietly. "I'd like to be the one who can help them find closure."

"It would be tough," Mary cautioned. "You'd see some horrible things."

"I know. I know it won't be pretty or easy or a clean lab gig. But, I still feel like it's where I'm meant to be. This is what I want to do, Mary."

"For whom?"

Sara sighed. "For me."

Mary nodded. "All right, then. If it's for you, I can only wish you good luck."

Sara smiled. "Thanks."

"But, if you're doing this for him, I'm going to have to beat some sense into you."

Sara laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

* * *

The next morning, Sara put her newly made resolve to work. She found her acceptance letters and composed replies, asking to have her admission deferred for a year. She knew that a year would give her perspective, and allow her to decide if criminalistics was something she truly wanted to pursue.

With her education settled, she began working on finding a job. She pulled out lists of required application materials from all the labs she had found that were looking for physicists. She put together application packets, and went to the post office. She mailed packets to all the labs, including the San Francisco Crime Lab.

Upon returning to her apartment from the post office, she sent an email to Grissom. She knew that he was waiting to hear from her about her decision regarding her future. Besides, he had mentioned some useful contacts in San Francisco …

Her only hope was that he wouldn't see her email as a plea for help. She wanted to get this job on her own merit. Yet, even she wasn't naïve enough to think that most people found their way into jobs without help. In the end, she decided to pay him the professional courtesy of letting him know that she was applying – if he wanted to act beyond that, it was entirely up to him.

* * *

_Grissom,_

_I've done it! I just sent my application to San Francisco! I'm really excited. My roommate thinks I'm crazy for putting off my doctorate work, but I think this is the right thing for me. _

_I don't have any other news, but I thought you'd be interested in that bit of information. I just hope they get back to me soon – as you know, I'm not the most patient person in the world._

_Hope to hear from you soon._

_Sara_

Grissom sat bolt upright in his chair when he read the message. She had finally decided – and had reached the decision he had anticipated. He grinned, and immediately reached for his phone. The day shift CSI supervisor in San Francisco had been his best friend in college – Grissom had been the best man in Carl's wedding. While he rarely asked for favors, this was one time that he was willing to call one in.

The phone only rang twice before it was picked up.

"Carl Benson."

"Hi, Carl, it's Gil Grissom."

"Gil! How are you? I haven't heard from you in ages!"

"I know, and I'm sorry. I've been horrible about calling lately."

"Don't blame yourself. I haven't exactly picked up the phone, either. How are things with you?"

"Fine," Grissom replied. "You?"

"Good. Susie started kindergarten this year."

"Is she really that old already?" Grissom asked, picturing the preschooler he had last seen two years before.

"Yeah, I know. It's amazing how fast they grow up." Carl's voice carried his smile over the miles to Grissom's office. "So, what can I do for you?"

Grissom laughed. "Well, I wish I could say that I was just calling to catch up …"

"Don't." There was obviously no offense taken; Carl genuinely wanted to help his friend. "I know you'd never call this time of day just to chat. Do you need a consult?"

"No, nothing that dramatic," Grissom replied. "I actually have a favor I'd like to ask of you."

"A favor?" Carl asked in surprise. Grissom never asked for favors. "I'll do anything for you, Gil. How can I help?"

"I have a student who just applied for a job in your lab. You know I would never ask this if I didn't think she was fully capable of doing the job, but … I was hoping that you might give her special consideration."

"Of course. What's her name?"

"Sara Sidle."

"Sara Sidle?" Carl repeated. "I don't remember seeing her application."

"I believe she just sent it recently," Grissom said. _As in two hours ago._ "It may not have gotten to you yet."

"I'll definitely keep an eye out for it," Carl promised. "And I guarantee her an interview. More, if I can swing it."

"Thanks, Carl. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for a friend."

* * *

Two days later, Carl found a thick envelope on his desk. He opened it to find Sara Sidle's application. He sat down to read it over.

Thirty minutes later, he was sure that his friend had found him a prime candidate. Sara was clearly well-qualified, despite her lack of law enforcement training. She didn't have a degree in forensics, she had never served as a cadet at any academy … yet, he was sure that anyone with her educational background could pick that aspect up quickly enough. Her physics degrees made her a very attractive candidate – particularly considering the fact that the lab's senior physicist had recently retired. Even if this girl hadn't been a friend of Gil's, he would have interviewed her. As it was, being Gil's friend made it even more likely that she would be hired.

He put her resume down on his desk and reached for his phone.

* * *

The phone was ringing when Sara walked into her apartment after her morning classes. She dropped her keys and bag in a mad dash to grab it before the machine picked up.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Hello. May I speak with Sara Sidle?"

"This is she," she replied.

"Sara, hello," the man said warmly. She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm Carl Benson, the day shift supervisor with the San Francisco Crime Lab."

"Oh, hi," Sara said, hoping to keep the surprise in her voice to a minimum. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "I'm calling because I just received your application. So, you'd like to work with us?"

"Yes, I would," she said without hesitating.

"Well, I'd like to talk more about giving you that chance," Carl said. "I'd love for you to come in for an interview."

Sara sank down onto the nearest chair. "I'd love to come," she said.

"When would be good for you?" Carl asked.

"Well, my finals are next week, so any time after that would be fine."

"Shall we say Monday the 19th, then?"

"That would be great," Sara replied.

"Excellent. How is ten thirty for you?"

"Sounds great."

"Perfect. Do you know how to find us in San Francisco?"

"I do," Sara said, seeing in her mind's eye the building she had driven past many times as a child.

"Great," Carl said. "I'll see you on Monday, December 19 at ten thirty, then."

"Right," Sara agreed.

"I look forward to meeting you."

"You, too."

"Good bye, Sara."

"Bye."

She heard the phone click as Carl hung up, but she couldn't quite bring herself to put her own receiver back in its cradle. She stared at it in shock.

The shift that had begun a week before was nearly complete. She could feel the pieces of her life sliding into their new places.

Nothing would ever be the same again.


	9. The New Life

A/N: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The New Life_

"Hello?"

"Mary?"

"Yeah … Sara, are you all right?"

"I'm more than all right!" Sara practically yelled into the phone. "I got the job!"

"Oh my God!"

"I know!"

"Sara! This is amazing! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Sara laughed. "I start next week. Can you believe it? I only have a week to move …"

Both girls sobered considerably as the reality of the situation hit them. Sara suddenly found herself blinking back tears.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Um …" Mary said. "Well, look, Sara, this is what you want, and I'm really happy for you."

"Yeah, but … Mar, I don't want to leave you."

"You'll never get rid of me," Mary said firmly. "Never. We're in this for life, girl."

"BFFs, huh?"

"Damn straight."

Sara giggled. "I'm just really going to miss you."

"This is not the time for this," Mary said firmly. "You just got a new job, and you deserve to be happy. So, don't think about moving yet. Just think about your job and all the exciting dead bodies you'll get to analyze."

"Well, doesn't that just make it sound like fun?"

Mary laughed. "Sara, I'm really sorry about this, but I have to go. I have my last final in twenty minutes."

"Okay," Sara replied. "I'll be home tonight."

"Drive safely."

"I will."

"I'll see you when you get back."

"Right."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and drew a deep breath. She had forgotten that taking a job in San Francisco meant that she would no longer live with Mary. She didn't know how she'd handle life without her best friend.

Determined to put all thoughts of moving away from Mary out of her head, she opened her phone again. She took a slip of paper out of her purse. She studied it carefully despite the fact that she had read the number so many times that she had it memorized. She was afraid that if she dialed wrong the first time, she would lose her nerve and not try again.

Sara's hands shook as she dialed the numbers. In all the months that she and Grissom had been corresponding, she had only ever emailed him. She had never called him at home. But, this was news she needed to give him as "in person" as she could.

The phone rang twice. Sara was mentally preparing the message she would leave on his machine when he picked up. She swallowed her surprise and listened to his voice.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Grissom?" She was amazed that her voice didn't break. The way that her hands were shaking from hearing his voice made her sure that she would never be able to have a normal conversation with him.

"Yes?"

"Hi. This is Sara Sidle."

"Sara!" Grissom exclaimed. "Hello! How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, a grin stretching across her face at the enthusiasm in his voice. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied. "What have you been up to?"

"Well … I actually called to tell you that I just got a new job."

"The job in San Francisco?" he asked, the excitement in his voice traveling across the phone lines.

"Yes," she grinned. "I start my life as a CSI next week."

"Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "That's great news! I'm so happy for you. I know you'll make a great CSI." He sighed. "I wish I could have you for my lab, but …"

Sara held her breath. She couldn't believe how close he was to asking her to join him in Las Vegas.

"Unfortunately, they won't approve any new CSIs right now," Grissom said. "Budget issues. You know how it goes."

"It's all about the bottom line," Sara said.

"Exactly. Still, that's great about San Francisco! You'll have a great time with Carl. He's a good friend of mine … and a really talented criminalist."

"He interviewed me," she said. "I really liked him."

"He's a great person," Grissom said, wondering when the last time he had used "great" so much had been. He cleared his throat, hoping that it would somehow inflate his vocabulary back to its normal size. "You said that you start next week?"

"Right after graduation."

Grissom glanced at his calendar. "I'll be in San Francisco for a lecture in a few months. Maybe you could come to it."

"I'd love to," Sara said without even asking the topic.

"It's just one night," Grissom said. "I'm one of a series of lecturers. But, I will be in San Francisco for the entire weekend."

"Can I be your tour guide?" Sara asked without thinking. "I grew up there … I know the city so well … I'd love to show you around …"

"I'd love it, too," Grissom smiled, effectively cutting her off. Her ability to babble was rather endearing. "I'm sure you'll be a very talented tour guide."

"As long as I can get the time off," she said.

Grissom smiled again. "Carl is a fair man. I'm sure it won't be a problem."

* * *

"Sara! You made it!"

Sara smiled at her new boss. "I can't wait to get started," she said quite honestly.

Moving had been one of the most traumatic experiences of her life. Both Mary and Tom had been on hand to help her; she and Mary had spent half the day crying over the fact that they wouldn't live together again. When the time had come for them to leave, the two girls had clung to each other, sobbing as though their hearts would break. Tom had finally led Mary away, and Sara had spent her first night in her new home crying herself to sleep.

All in all, Sara was thrilled to have something to focus on that didn't involve her best friend and the distance between them. This first day of work would provide her with a much-needed distraction.

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way," Carl said. "Let's get you acquainted with the lab."

The tour of the lab took the entire day. Sara met so many people; she was sure it would take months for her to actually learn each one's name and job title. But, she was up for the challenge. She was determined to love this new job.

* * *

"Are you ready for your first case?"

Sara's face lit up. Finally, after what felt like years of learning how to do her job, she was going to get to do it. "Definitely!"

"Good," Carl smiled. "You're coming with Anne and me to investigate the suspicious death of a woman at home."

"All right. Do we know anything else about what happened?"

"Nope. At this point, it could be a homicide, a suicide or even accidental."

"Really?"

"Well," he said slowly, "if they're calling it a suspicious death, I'd say it probably not accidental."

"That makes sense."

"Come on. Let's go." He smiled and tossed her jacket to her. "I'm driving."

"Hey, Sara," Anne greeted her as they walked out of the break room. "Are you ready for action?"

"You bet," Sara smiled.

"Now, this one is involved," Anne cautioned. "We have a dead body, so we're going to have to process at the scene as well as in the morgue."

"I'm ready," Sara said.

"Good," Anne said, glancing at Carl.

Anne had been Carl's second in command for nearly a decade, and normally agreed with the way he ran his shift. The only thing she disagreed with was his penchant for sending the new CSIs straight into cases involving dead bodies. She was of the opinion that their first cases should be robberies or something equally tame, allowing them time to ease into the job. Carl felt that they needed to know what they were up against from the very beginning.

He grinned at Anne, who rolled her eyes. He knew what she was thinking, and he also knew that he was right. If Sara couldn't take this, he was willing to send her right back to grad school. He didn't need anyone on his team who wasn't prepared to deal with the less than pretty side of the job.

* * *

Sara was rather proud of herself. She had handled the scene beautifully. The blood hadn't bothered her at all. She had never been squeamish, even as a child. She supposed that her childhood would be enough to knock the squeamishness out of anyone.

The smell of the body had been a bit awful, but after initially gagging, she had been all right. Anne had immediately whisked her away from the body, which helped. They had spent their time working the perimeter of the house, leaving Carl alone in the living room with the victim. Carl finally came outside to find the two women documenting the position of the patio furniture.

"Hey, girls. How's it going out here?"

"Fine," Anne replied. "Sara's doing a great job."

"I knew she would," Carl smiled. "Listen, I'm the lead on this case, so I have to ride back with the body," he said. "I'd like you to come with me, Sara."

Anne looked at him in surprise. "I thought she could stay with me so we could work on her collection technique."

"I'd rather she see the morgue side of things," Carl said evenly.

Anne blinked. He really was throwing this girl off the side of the pier to see if she would sink or swim. "All right," she agreed a bit reluctantly. "Sara, I'll find you when I get back to the lab. I want you to help me process this evidence."

"All right," Sara said. She looked from one to the other, knowing that something was happening between them, but not having a clue as to what it might be.

"Let's go," Carl said.

* * *

"The smell will be a bit strong," Carl said as he and Sara put on lab coats before entering the morgue. "Here," he said, handing her a mask. "Put this on."

"Thanks," Sara said, holding it over her mouth and nose. She looked at him quizzically. "Where's yours?"

"I don't need one."

She raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "You get used to it. In a little while, you won't need one, either."

She nodded, not knowing what to say to that.

Carl pushed open the door. "After you."

They walked in together, and were greeted by the medical examiner's smile.

"Hi, Doc," Carl said.

"Hi, Carl. Bring a friend in today?"

"This is Sara Sidle, our newest team member. Sara, this is Dr. Evan Wright, the day shift medical examiner. He's the one you'll deal with the most frequently."

"Hello," she said with a smile.

"Hi," Dr. Wright replied. He smiled. "I see that Carl has given you a mask. Before I even start, I want you to know that the restroom is out that door, second door on the right."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

The doctor smiled patiently. "I've had more than one CSI lose his or her lunch in this room. I'd just rather let you know in advance."

Sara swallowed. "All right. Thanks, I guess."

"Here we go, then. Lauren Grey." Dr. Wright pulled back the sheet covering the young woman's body.

Sara's eyes softened as she looked at the woman's bruised face. This woman had been through more than most people could even imagine.

Her eyes widened as she realized how strong the smell was. Even as the scene, she was sure they body had not smelled quite like this. Maybe that was because she had spent so little time with her. She concentrated on not gagging.

Dr. Wright began listing off Lauren's many injuries, which was a welcome distraction from the smell. To Sara, it was a bit like listening to her mother's life story. She had had the suspicion at the house that this woman had been abused. Now, listening to the doctor, she was sure of it.

The body truly smelled horrible. When was the last time Sara had been able to take a deep breath?

"Cause of death?" Carl asked.

"Strangulation," Dr. Wright replied. "The bruises on her neck indicate that it was someone's bare hands."

Sara closed her eyes both against the smell and the horrible death that the doctor had just described.

"Sara?" Carl asked. Her eyes popped open to meet his gaze. "Any thoughts?"

"She was abused," she said, swallowing thickly.

"I agree," Dr. Wright said. "The x-rays show multiple healed fractures, particularly in the facial bones."

Sara swallowed again. "We need to talk to her husband." She clenched her fists and blinked against the smell of death in the room.

"We'll get him in here," Carl said. "All right, Doc, I think that's all we need for now. We'll be back if we have more questions."

"Thanks. It was nice meeting you, Sara."

She managed a tight smile and a nod, knowing that opening her mouth would be a mistake. She walked out with Carl. He stopped to remove his lab coat, but she kept walking, going straight through the second door on the right.

She became one of the CSIs who lost her lunch.

* * *

"So, how was your first autopsy?" Anne asked as she showed Sara how to search for fingerprint matches.

Sara paused. "Interesting," she said at last.

Anne smiled. "I was sick at my first autopsy, too."

Sara's head snapped up.

"Carl didn't tell me," she said. "I can tell by the way you said that."

"Oh," Sara said, her face burning red.

"Look, most of us have trouble with autopsies at the beginning. It'll get easier." She smiled. "Carl told me that you handled yourself really well in there. He has this thing about letting you see the very worst of this job from day one. I'm surprised he didn't make you start on a decomp."

"Why is that?"

Anne smiled. "I hope you don't have to find out for at least a year."

"Right," Sara said slowly.

"You're doing great so far," Anne said. "Just … keep it up, and I know you'll do fine."

"I will," Sara said, a fire burning in her eyes.

She wanted to succeed at this job. She always had. But, it was no longer for herself or even for Grissom. During that autopsy, when she had realized how much horror Lauren Grey had lived through, her focus had shifted. She wanted to find those responsible for causing pain, and to bring them to justice. She wanted punishment for the abusers and closure for the victims and their families. She wanted justice for Lauren, because, in some strange way, it would bring about justice for her mother and every woman who had ever been in her place.

* * *

"We have the husband here," Carl said.

Sara and Anne looked up from the pictures they had spread across the table in the lay out room.

"That was fast," Anne said.

"Well, it turns out that Lauren Grey's uncle is a retired cop. The force was more than willing to help us out on this one."

Anne narrowed her eyes. "Did the family suspect that she was abused?"

"If we can't get anything from the husband, we'll start bringing in the family."

"She was abused," Sara said forcefully.

Anne looked at her curiously. "All the evidence says so thus far, but, Sara, the one thing we can _never_ do in this job is to get ahead of the evidence."

"What do you mean?"

"From the time we arrive at a scene until the time we appear in court to testify, we'll go through at least five different theories as to how a person died. Some will be incredibly unlikely, but each one will be supported by the evidence that we have at the time. As we move forward, we will collect more and more evidence – as it changes, our theories will change, too." She paused. "In this case, it does look as though Lauren Grey was a battered wife whose husband finally went too far. But, we have to be careful. We could find someone else's bloody fingerprints at the scene. We could find something in these pictures that indicates suicide. We could find something that shows that she died accidentally."

"I think I get your point," Sara said. "I won't get too attached to the husband as a suspect."

"I think he's a pretty safe bet," Carl said. "But, we'll see what happens during the interrogation."

"Can I come for that?" Sara asked.

Anne shook her head. "You and I will watch from outside. We'll let Carl do the talking."

Sara was a bit disappointed, but tried not to let it show. "All right."

"You'll do plenty of interrogations," Anne said.

"They're very delicate," Carl said. "This is the one thing I don't like to let you practice on too early."

"All right," Sara said again.

"Well, let's go down, then." Carl smiled. "I believe that our date is waiting."

* * *

It took a lot of work on Carl's end, but he managed to elicit a confession from Lauren Grey's husband. Watching him being led away in handcuffs was one of the most emotional moments of Sara's life.

Anne looked at her, surprised to see the tears that had gathered in her eyes. "Sara? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Sara said, wiping at her eyes. She turned to Anne with a small smile. "We helped her find justice. Now, he'll be punished for everything he did to her."

Anne smiled. "Everything we do is scientific," she said. "From the way we collect evidence to the way we process it to the way we interpret it, we have to leave the human aspect at the door. We're scientists, and we rely on data and hard facts to make decisions.

"But, then, we have to bring the human element back into it. We can't just look at one side of anything." She smiled, and nodded toward the suspect. "In the end, this is what it's all about: finding justice and closure."

Sara nodded. "I think I can do this," she said.

Anne smiled. "I know you can."


	10. The Weekend

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you like this chapter!

I don't own CSI. The inspiration for the issues between Grissom and Catherine in this chapter came from a scene in episode 104, "Pledging Mr. Johnson."

* * *

_The Weekend_

"So, you're leaving again?"

"I'm leaving again."

Catherine gave him a teasing smile. "You know, if you keep taking off like this, I'm going to start thinking that you have an out of town mistress."

Grissom smiled tightly. "Do I look like the type to do something like that?"

"Of course not," Catherine smiled. "Oh, I have to thank you for giving me advance warning this time."

"You're welcome," Grissom replied. "You won't have as much to do with Nick and Warrick this time, either."

"No, they're well on their way to Level III," Catherine said. She heaved a mock sigh. "It seems like only yesterday they were Level I. Our little boys are getting so big."

Grissom smiled tolerantly. "I'll see you next week, Catherine."

"Take care," Catherine said. "Enjoy San Francisco."

Grissom gave her a mysterious smile. "I intend to."

* * *

His lecture was on Thursday night. He hoped that the attendance would be good. He always worried about lecturing on Thursdays – far too many students would rather be out in bars than in classrooms on that particular evening. He smiled a bit wistfully as the thought crossed his mind. When had he stopped thinking of Thursday as the night that kicked off the weekend?

He was unpacking his lecture notes when he heard the door to the hall open. He started to look up, knowing that she would be the one walking into his classroom before he had seen who was there or she had said a word. Who else would arrive so early?

"Sara," he said, a grin stretching across his face as his eyes met hers.

"Hi, Grissom," she grinned. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said, walking up the aisle to meet her even as she came down toward him. "How are you? How's the new job?"

"It's great," she smiled.

"It's going well for you?"

"I really love it," she said, giving him a teasing smile, "just like you said I would."

He smiled and shrugged. "What can I say? There are some things that I just know."

"Well, you hit that one dead on, soothsayer." She paused. "How are things in Vegas? How's your team?"

"Fine," he said. "Nick and Warrick are in a stiff competition to see who can make Level III first, with Jim encouraging them all the way."

Sara smiled. "He wants them to compete?"

"He wants them to make Level III," Grissom corrected. "And, Jim is a firm believer that healthy competition leads to results. It seems to be working so far. I suppose that means I can agree with him."

Sara smiled. "And the others?" She didn't want to admit it, but she wanted to hear about Catherine. She was referenced many times in Grissom's emails, leaving Sara to wonder what sort of relationship the two coworkers shared.

"Well, Greg is settling in nicely," he said. "He's very dedicated to his job, but he's a very … different … sort of person."

Sara grinned in spite of herself. "Care to elaborate?"

"He's … more of a free spirit that anyone else in the lab."

"I think that's a good thing," Sara replied. "Someone needs to be looser, or the entire group would end up completely uptight."

"You're right, I suppose. Everyone seems to like him – even Catherine."

"Is she difficult to please?"

"No, not exactly. She just isn't one to stand for a lot."

Sara grinned again. "I get the impression that you aren't, either."

Grissom smiled. "Well. That may be true, too, but Catherine is a bit more vocal about it than I am."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Do you work with us?"

"No," she smiled.

"Then you don't know for sure," Grissom smiled. His smile faded somewhat. "I'm pretty willing to make allowances for Catherine right now … she's going through a tough time."

"Oh?"

"Well … she will be soon enough."

"Care to drop the code?"

The door opened, and several students walked in. Grissom gave Sara an apologetic smile.

"Can we continue this later?"

"Sure," Sara replied. "Are you still up for dinner after class?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Sara took her seat with butterflies in her stomach. She had emailed Grissom suggesting that they have dinner after the lecture on a whim, certain that he would turn her down. When he had responded with "dinner would be lovely," Sara's heart had done a back flip. She had spent forever choosing the perfect restaurant for their first meal together – something nice, but not to fancy. Her worst fear had been that he would change his mind once he arrived in San Francisco. The fact that he hadn't changed his mind made her so nervous that she wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he _had_ turned her down.

Then, he looked up and smiled at her. In that moment, as her eyes connected with his, she found herself once again under his spell. He gave her that look, that smile that made her feel as though she were the only person in the room. He made her feel like she was his princess. In that moment, she knew that everything would work out.

* * *

The lecture ended, and the students all collected their things. Sara, too, put her things away, but remained seated, waiting for Grissom. He spoke to each of the students who had a question for him, showing the same infinite patience that he had given Sara during his tenure at Berkeley. She smiled softly as she watched him. They might monopolize his time for the moment, but he was hers for the evening. She had never been so excited to go out for dinner.

At last, the students were all gone. Grissom turned his smile to Sara.

"Well, tour guide, are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes," she smiled. "We're going to one of my favorite restaurants. I hope you like seafood."

"Love it."

"Okay, then! Let's go!"

* * *

The restaurant was close enough that they could walk to it. Sara was glad that it was such a nice evening; it made for a very pleasant stroll. They made small talk as they waited for a table; it wasn't until they had placed their order that the conversation became more personal.

"Do you want to tell me about Catherine?" Sara asked a bit awkwardly. She wasn't sure if he wanted to talk or not, but she wanted to let him know that she was willing to listen if he did.

Grissom sighed. "I'm only telling you this because I know that it will never go beyond the two of us."

"Of course not," Sara said seriously.

Grissom nodded. "I just found out that Eddie, Catherine's husband, has been cheating on her."

Sara's eyes widened. "Did she tell you?"

"No," he said. He paused. "She doesn't know."

"Then, how do you know?"

"I was at one of the casinos, working a case, and I saw him with another woman. They were headed into a hotel room." An expression passed over his face as though he were about to be sick. "They could barely keep their hands off one another."

"And you haven't told her?"

"How can I?" Grissom asked, his expression becoming tortured. "How can I tell this woman who has been a good friend and colleague for years – _years_! – that her husband is cheating on her?"

"How can you _not_?" Sara asked. "Don't you think that she deserves to know?"

"I don't know," Grissom said. "I'm trying to rely on what I know, not what I think."

"And what do you know?"

"I know that she loves her husband. I know that she wants to make her marriage work for her daughter's sake. And I know that she would leave him in a second if she found out he's been seeing another woman."

"Grissom, you have to tell her. You can't let her stay married to someone like that."

He shook his head. "I don't want to meddle in her life."

"This isn't meddling!" Sara exclaimed. "If it were you in her place, wouldn't you want to know?"

He shook his head again. "Every day, I see people's lives ripped apart by one force or another. I don't want Catherine to have to suffer the way that they do."

"I don't know her," Sara said, "so I can't say for sure how she would react. Do you really think that she would let this destroy her?"

"Catherine is one of the strongest people I've ever known," Grissom said. "I know that this wouldn't destroy her. But, I know how much it would hurt her. And I know that I don't want to be the one to bring about all that hurt."

"You wouldn't be," Sara said. "Eddie is the one who is causing her pain."

"Have you ever seen a woman scorned immediately turn on her husband?"

"She's going to be angry when she finds out," Sara said. "And, when she finds out that you knew but didn't tell her …"

Grissom shook his head again. "I won't be the one to tell her," he said firmly.

"All right," Sara said, although she clearly did not think it was "all right."

"Let's talk about something else," Grissom sighed. "Tell me about working with Carl."

"He's great," Sara said enthusiastically. "Anne is fabulous, too. I'm really learning a lot from them. They said I'll be able to move up to Level II in a few more months."

"That's great," Grissom smiled. "I have a feeling you'd give my guys a run for their money."

Sara smiled, wishing that she could have the chance. "You know, Carl reminds me a lot of you."

"How so?"

"He's completely old-school. He insists that we do actual, live reconstructions instead of computer simulations, he'll spend forever staring at fingerprints instead of using the computer …"

"Whoa, now," Grissom smiled, "I won't stare at fingerprints _forever_ anymore."

"I stand corrected," Sara smiled. "But, yesterday, he had me setting a pig on fire to see how long it would take the heat to melt fabric into skin." She made a face. "You know, I'm really starting to hate the idea of eating pork."

Grissom laughed. "You know that's the best way to see how human skin would react."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Griss. Between the two of you, you've made me see the value of _not_ using the thousands of dollars in equipment the lab has."

"How's everything else?" Grissom asked. "Do you like being back in San Francisco?"

"I love San Francisco," Sara replied with a smile. "It's always good to be back. There are a lot of memories here for me … not all good, but that's the same everywhere, I suppose."

"Probably," Grissom agreed.

"I just really miss Mary," Sara said wistfully.

"Mary?" Grissom repeated. "Your roommate?"

"Yes, that one."

"She's your best friend," he said. "Of course, you miss her. Has she been up to visit?"

"No, not yet. Not since she and Tom helped me move into my new apartment. She promised to come up this summer, once her classes and graduation are over."

"What's she going to do after graduation?"

"Her doctorate," Sara replied. "She's always wanted to be a college professor."

"An academic."

"Most certainly."

The arrival of their food temporarily suspended their conversation. They continued to chat as they ate, even ordering dessert to prolong their meal. At last, they realized that they could not stay much longer and asked for their bill.

"I'm paying this time," Sara said, reaching for the check before Grissom had time to react.

"You don't have to do that," Grissom protested.

Sara shook her head. "You always paid for coffee when we went out last year."

"That was two coffees," Grissom said. "I have a feeling that a meal like this is going to cost a bit more than that."

"Still … I invited you."

"Sara, you're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman."

She smiled with him. "Call me a feminist, but _I_ want to treat _you_ this time."

"All right," he finally agreed. "But, when we go out next time, dinner is on me."

Sara's grin could have lit up a room. "Definitely."

After paying, they walked out into the cool night. Sara turned her face up to look at the stars, then smiled at Grissom.

"Well, good night, then," she said. "It was great to see you. This has been a lovely evening."

"Wait," Grissom said. "How are you getting home?"

"I parked at the university," she replied.

"Let me at least walk you back to your car."

"I'll be fine."

He shook his head. "Please. It will make me feel better to know that you're safe."

"Now, Grissom," she teased as she fell into step beside him, "is anyone ever _really_ safe?"

"I'd like to do everything in my power to make sure that _you're_ safe," he said quietly.

Sara smiled slightly, unsure of what to say.

* * *

After his brief stay in San Francisco, Grissom returned to the relative stability of the lab. Despite the inherent unpredictability of his job, some factors of his life remained unchanging. Nick and Warrick's race to reach Level III continued, bringing both of them nearer and nearer to their common goal. As he became more comfortable in his position, more of Greg's style began to surface. Grissom often found himself asking the younger man to turn down his music while he worked. Ecklie found every excuse to try to show the superiority of the day shift over the night shift, to the chagrin of the graveyard team.

But, the one thing that did change was Catherine. She had gone from cheerful to positively depressed. She walked in with stooped shoulders. The sparkle was gone from her eyes. She did her job with the same dedication, but the passion was gone. Grissom was worried about her, but didn't know how to help her.

Finally, one day, he couldn't take it anymore. He was seated at his desk, and saw her walking past his office.

"Catherine!" he called.

She stopped and backpedaled to peek in the door. "Yes?"

"Come in," he said. "Close the door behind you."

Looking at him with questions in her eyes, she did as she had been asked.

"Sit down," he said.

She took a seat and waited, watching as he looked at her with tender blue eyes.

"How are you?" he asked with more compassion than she had ever heard in his voice.

The fact that Gil Grissom, the man who never showed emotion, the man who was better with bugs than with people, the man who found it so difficult to empathize, was hurting for her was her undoing. The iron woman who never let her personal life interfere with her work burst into tears.

Alarmed, Grissom had no idea what to do. He grabbed a box of tissues and put them down in front of her.

"Catherine?" he asked softly.

She swallowed hard, trying to get herself under control. "I'm sorry," she choked out, reaching for a tissue. "I didn't mean to …"

"Don't worry about it," Grissom replied. "I just … I want to help you. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

She drew a shaky breath. "It's Eddie," she said. "He's been cheating on me for … months, I guess. I don't like to think that it's been a year, but, at this point, who knows?"

Grissom closed his eyes and opened them again slowly. "How did you find out?"

"I'm not blind," she spat. "Well, then again, maybe I am. It took until I found a receipt for lingerie that I've never seen to make me realize what was happening." She looked away. "You know what hurts the most? I'm a crime scene investigator. I can solve the mysteries of anyone else's life, yet I couldn't see what was happening in my own house."

"You can't blame yourself for this," Grissom said firmly. "He's the one who's at fault. He's the one who was with some other woman, sneaking around, spending nights in hotels, being anything but discreet out in the open …" He trailed off, realizing what he had let slip. He hoped that she wouldn't notice.

But, as she had said herself, she was a crime scene investigator.

"You knew."

He blinked. "What makes you say that?"

"How would you know that he was staying in hotels with her? That he was being indiscreet? I just told you that it was a receipt that tipped me off."

"I …"

"You saw him, didn't you? You saw him with _her_."

He hesitated.

"Please, Gil."

"Yes," he said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed. "How long have you known?"

He sighed. "Since about a week before I went to San Francisco."

"You were in San Francisco six months ago!" Catherine yelled. "You've known about this for _six_ _months_, and you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you." Even to his own ears, it sounded stupid.

"_Upset_ _me_?" she yelled. She jumped out of her seat and slammed her hands down on his desk. "Gil, this is probably the worst thing you could have done for me! My husband was running around Vegas with some platinum blond _skank_, making me look like a complete fool, and you knew about it but didn't tell me because you were afraid of _upsetting_ _me_?"

"Catherine, I –"

"Don't," she cut him off. "Just – don't. Not now." She walked to his door and opened it, then turned to face him again. "This one's going to take some time, Grissom."

She walked out, closing the door behind her.

Grissom stared at the closed door, thinking of the choices he had made. Sara had been right. He should have told her from the beginning.

He hoped he would never make that mistake again.

* * *

It took a month. Once Catherine's divorce was in the works and she had arranged a system with her sister to make sure that Lindsey was always cared for, she forgave Grissom for not telling her about Eddie's affair. The entire team felt better once the rather one-sided fight between them ended. The tension had been getting to everyone.

"I'd like to thank you – both of you."

Grissom and Catherine looked up from their seats in the conference room as Brass entered. He closed the door behind him and sat down with them.

"You called us in here to thank us?" Catherine asked.

"Not entirely, but that had to be first."

"What are you thanking us for?" she asked.

"For ending your fight before I brought in our new CSI."

"New CSI?" Grissom asked. "I thought they weren't going to let us have anyone else."

"Apparently, the city has decided that law enforcement needs more money. In our case, that translates into a new CSI."

"Great," Catherine said. "We can always use the extra hands."

"Well, don't get too excited yet," Brass said. "We're getting someone who's brand new to the profession."

"Who?"

"Her name is Holly Gribbs. She comes with family connections and no job experience." He gave them a significant look.

"And we're in charge of training her," Grissom said.

"Well, you did such a good job with Nicky and Warrick; I thought you'd enjoy breaking in another. Gil, you're in charge of her training. Catherine –"

"I know," she interrupted. "I'll back him up. As always."

"Don't be bitter," Brass smiled. "You'll always be first in my heart."

"The sarcasm never ends with you, does it?" Catherine asked.

"Rarely," Brass grinned. "All right, any questions?"

"When does she start?" Grissom asked.

"Next week. Make sure you're ready."

Grissom and Catherine exchanged a look and a half smile.

"We will be."


	11. The Shift

A/N: First – EEK to the season finale! How are we supposed to wait till September to see how that one turns out?

Now, on to the story – Thanks for reading this far! Thanks, too, for the reviews – they make it all so much more exciting for me. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration for this chapter came from episode 101, "Pilot." Some lines were also borrowed from that episode. I promise to give them back in the same condition I found them.

* * *

_The Shift_

"Hello?"

Grissom stood up and walked around several bookcases in his effort to reach his visitor. "Hi."

She gasped and jumped, spinning around to look at him.

In that moment, he fell in love.

Not exactly in love with _her_ – in love with the _idea_ of her.

In that moment, Holly Gribbs was Sara Sidle.

She resembled her, in a way – the short-ish brown hair, the big brown eyes, the wide smile. There was something in her eyes, too – something about her spirit was like Sara's.

As they shook hands, as he asked her for a pint of her blood, he knew that he was projecting all the feelings he would never let himself have for Sara onto Holly. He knew what he was doing, and he was powerless to stop it. Sara was hundreds of miles away, and Holly was right here in front of him, working for him, looking to him to be her mentor. She needed him, and he needed her.

He needed her to be the one he could pet and spoil and teach without Sara there to be the recipient of his affections.

He should have realized then that he was in too deep.

* * *

"She is cute."

To his credit, Grissom managed not to voice the thoughts running through his head. It seemed so wrong that a man as old as Dr. Leever would say something like that about Holly.

"She's a nice girl," he said instead.

"She seems nice," the doctor nodded as he leaned over the body to get to work. "Do you think she's ready for this?"

"I don't know that she was ready for an autopsy on her first night."

Again, Dr. Leever nodded. "Brass's orders?"

"Yes."

"How soon does the captain want that one out?"

"Eight hours." Grissom refused to meet the coroner's eyes. As much as he liked the older man, he didn't want him to read anything there that would give away the fact that Grissom wasn't too pleased with Brass's plan to get rid of Holly so quickly.

"Do you think she'll last?"

Grissom sighed. Consequences be damned. "I'll do my best to keep her around," he said. "Catherine will, too. We both would like to have another member on our team, regardless of what Brass wants."

"Good for you."

A faint scream made both of them look up. Grissom's eyes shot to the video monitors of the morgue.

"Holly's trapped," he said.

"I told her that the bathroom was to the right," the coroner sighed.

"I'll go get her out."

Grissom was on his way out the door before the words were fully out of his mouth. He ran to the room where Holly was trapped, and threw his arm against the door to open it from the outside.

As Holly ran out, babbling about the bodies breathing, Grissom grabbed her and pulled her into a comforting embrace. He did his best to remember that it was Holly he held, not Sara.

Grissom released her and went back to the door. He peeked in the window at the dead bodies lying in neat rows.

"You assholes!" he yelled at them.

Holly was beginning to smile when he turned back to her. In that moment, he truly thought that she would make it. He was relieved. He didn't want to lose her.

Once he had made her smile and knew that she was fine to move on with her first night on the job, he took her out of the morgue. They had a date with a convenience store.

He took a deep breath as they walked out, shaking his head slightly.

_This is _Holly, he told himself. _She's not Sara. You can't keep thinking that she's just like Sara, or you'll never appreciate her for who she is._

On the way to the convenience store, he told her ridiculous stories – all true, but all rather ridiculous. She called him on his attempt to cheer her up, but admitted that it had worked.

Again following Brass's orders, he dropped her off at the store and returned to the lab. She would be fine dusting for prints on her own.

Wouldn't she?

* * *

Grissom stood in the lab, carefully loading a dummy head with blood. Catherine came in and watched him for a moment in silence.

"That's real blood, isn't it?" she asked, finally breaking her silence.

"Yes."

She made a face. "Dare I ask where you got it?"

"Holly."

"Holly willingly gave you her blood?"

"I didn't tie her down."

Catherine closed her eyes. "How did you get it, Gil?"

He finally looked up from the dummy to meet her eyes. "I asked for it."

"Let's see … Holly's first night on the job, she meets you, her supervisor. You welcome her aboard, ask for her signature on the required forms, make a copy of her driver's license and social security card and ask for a _pint of blood_?"

He gave her a mischievous grin. "Catherine, you know very well that human resources makes the copies of the driver's license and social security card."

"I don't believe you!" she exclaimed. "You honestly asked her for a pint of her blood?"

"I need it to see how the blood spatter would look assuming the wife did use blunt force in that case –"

"Stop!" Catherine exclaimed. "How did you convince her to … donate?"

He shrugged. "I told her it's standard for new hires to give a blood sample."

She gave him a look of disgust. "Sometimes, I truly wonder what goes on in that larger-than-normal brain of yours."

"Oh, Catherine, I'm sure you wouldn't want to know."

"So am I," she said.

"Are we done here?" he asked. "I have a head I need to beat in."

"Have you seen Warrick?" she asked. "I wanted to talk to him about this shoe we found at our crime scene."

"Not in awhile," Grissom replied. "Did you check the break room?"

"Yeah – Greg's the only one in there."

Grissom shook his head. "He does enjoy his breaks, doesn't he?"

"Greg's the best tech we've had in years, Gil. Don't you dare try to get rid of him."

"I like Greg," Grissom defended. "I was commenting more on the fact that he gets everything done far quicker than his predecessor."

Catherine shook her head. "I'm going to go find Warrick. If you see him, let me know."

"Catherine!" Brass said, entering the room. "I need you to go –"

"Never mind, Griss," Catherine said as she walked out with Brass. "I'll find Warrick later."

"Right," Grissom said, putting on a pair of goggles and picking up a golf club.

"What's he doing?" Jim asked.

Catherine shook her head. "You don't want to know."

Smiling, Grissom swung the club into the dummy's head.

* * *

"Brass won't give me a warrant!"

Grissom looked up at Warrick. "What?"

"I found a toenail in the shoe, and I need to match it to the husband's, but he won't let me!"

"Ok, slow down," Grissom said calmly. "Tell me everything."

Warrick collapsed into the chair across from where Grissom sat at his desk. "I went back to the shoe, like you told me to."

"Right."

"And, I found a toenail, which would prove that the husband put on the dead guy's shoes to knock in his own door. It proves that he wasn't just defending his family – he murdered that guy then staged it to look like he was an intruder who was threatening them."

"The dead guy was staying with them," Grissom said fairly. "The husband could have worn his shoes another time."

"He gave me a signed statement saying that he had never worn the dead guy's shoes."

Grissom nodded. "You've done well, Warrick."

"Then why won't Brass get me the warrant?"

Grissom sighed. "I don't know. But, Warrick, listen ... sometimes, we have to be patient. Sometimes, waiting is the best course of action."

Warrick jumped up out of his chair. "I want to nail this guy, Griss!"

"You want to beat Nick," Grissom said. "I know that you are tied. I know that you're both working your hundredth case right now. I know that the first one done will be our newest Level III." He paused. "I also know that I told you before not to think about your promotion. You're working a case to help the victim's family, Warrick, not to get promoted."

Warrick slammed his hands against the arms of the chair. "You're just like Brass."

"No," Grissom said calmly. "I don't have the power to get you a warrant."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to get that warrant."

Grissom looked at him suspiciously. "Be patient, Warrick," he said. "Don't do anything stupid. It will just get you into trouble."

"Right," Warrick said as he walked to the door. "I'll see you later, Griss."

Grissom shook his head as he watched him leave. He hoped the Warrick would have the sense to abide by Brass's orders.

Grissom had no idea that while he was helping Warrick, Holly had run into some trouble of her own.

* * *

"I met our new girl."

Grissom smiled at Catherine's words, even though she couldn't see it over the phone lines. "She's nice, isn't she?"

Catherine sighed. "I really hope she makes it."

"She's not quite tough as nails like you are," Grissom smiled.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Well, she didn't do so well on her own at that convenience store. I bailed her out."

"What happened?"

"Oh, that owner is a nutcase. You know that. She was threatening to shoot Holly because she didn't think she was working fast enough."

"What?" Grissom exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I handled it."

"Admirably, I'm sure."

He could hear Catherine's smile. "Well, I may have told that woman that we wouldn't be back to process her store."

"Catherine …"

"Oh, I know it's not true," she said. "Holly was pretty shaken up, though. I took her out for lunch."

"I was back here … I didn't get the call …"

"Don't worry about it. I saved your ass," Catherine teased. "And, to be brutally honest, it's probably better that I was there instead of you. She needed a good pep talk, and no offense, but I'm better at that than you."

"You know, I think that modesty is your most endearing trait," Grissom said.

Catherine quirked an eyebrow. "And sweet-talking is yours."

"Touché."

Catherine sighed. "You know, she's only here because it's what her mother wanted."

"I wondered," Grissom said. "Brass said something about her mother working in traffic."

"Yeah," Catherine replied. "Apparently, Mom has realized that she's never moving up, but she wants better things for her little girl."

Grissom sighed. "I hate when parents project their dreams onto their children."

"Anyway, I think this girl needs someone with her," Catherine said, bringing the conversation back to its point. "Not really to baby sit, but just to make sure that she's ready to stand on her own two feet."

"Brass isn't going to like this," Grissom said as he turned the corner past the supervisor's office. "He wants her gone. Anything we can do to prevent that will be –"

Shouting reached his ears. He stopped talking to listen as Brass reamed Warrick out for going to the judge on his own for a warrant. Grissom closed his eyes. Apparently, Warrick hadn't taken his advice.

"Gil? Are you still there?"

"I've got to go, Catherine. I think we've got a bit of a situation with Warrick."

She groaned. "What did he do?"

"I'll call you later."

He snapped his phone shut without waiting for a reply and stepped closer to Brass's office. Jim noticed him standing in the doorway, ready to grab Warrick once he was dismissed.

"Grissom! Have Warrick shadow Gribbs for the next three weeks or until Nicky gets his hundredth, whatever comes first."

Warrick started screaming at Brass, shaking his finger in his face. Grissom stepped in and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out into the hallway.

Warrick came out of Brass's office, still screaming. Grissom grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to calm him down. He didn't think it helped. Warrick still had steam coming out of his ears when he left with Holly.

Brass stepped out into the hall, watching them leave.

"That boy …"

"Jim, you were a bit unfair to him," Grissom said slowly. "You could have asked for the warrant when he wanted it."

"He needs to learn patience."

"You're using this whole thing just to teach him a lesson?"

"You know that he was in the wrong, Grissom."

"I think you both were," Grissom replied fairly. "But, you're the boss."

"That's right," Brass said angrily. "When you're running the unit, you can call the shots."

He stalked off, leaving Grissom alone in the hall, wondering where he had gone wrong.

* * *

"I'm not mad at you."

Holly looked at Warrick in surprise as he steered their car out of the parking lot. "I didn't think you were."

"Good," Warrick said. He sighed. "Listen, I feel like Brass got us off to a rough start. Can we take this from the top?"

"Okay," Holly said slowly.

Warrick smiled. "Hi, I'm Warrick Brown. Welcome to the graveyard shift."

Holly smiled with him. "I'm Holly Gribbs. It's nice to meet you, Warrick."

"Good. We're already off to a better start."

Holly laughed. "What can you tell me about the graveyard shift?"

"Oh, man," Warrick grinned. "Well, first of all, Griss is a genius."

"A genius?" Holly repeated incredulously.

"I know. You wouldn't think it from his office, right? He seems more of a mad scientist. But, truly, the man is crazy smart. He's great, too – the best supervisor. Catherine's cool, too. You'll like her."

"Yeah, I met her," Holly said. She paused. "She's the reason I haven't gone home yet."

Warrick nodded. "She's one tough-ass lady," he said. "Don't let her motherly persona fool you. She hasn't made it this far by being nice. But, in the end, she's the biggest supporter you'd ever want to have.

"Who else have you met?"

"Captain Brass."

"Asshole."

"Right," Holly said. "Moving on?"

"Nick's a great guy. Lots of fun. You'll love him."

"Is that it?"

"Well, there's the techs, too. Have you met Greg?"

"Is he the one with the strange hair?"

"Yeah, that's him," Warrick smiled. "Mr. Trendy."

"Right," Holly smiled.

"Honestly, he's probably the sanest tech we have right now. Some of them tend to be odd."

"I can see that."

They pulled up to the apartment complex where the robbery had occurred. Warrick put the Jeep into park.

"I'm sorry you've got to baby sit," Holly said.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Warrick replied. He radioed in their arrival as Holly unbuckled her seatbelt. "Okay, go inside, dust for prints, make sure you take plenty of –"

"Photographs," she interrupted, "be thorough. Don't worry, I got the same speech from Mr. Grissom."

"Good," Warrick replied. "Look, I gotta run an errand. Will you be okay on your own?"

Holly enthusiastically agreed to work on her own, and Warrick drove off. He had no idea of what his "errand" would do both to him and to Holly.

* * *

"Warrick was right," Grissom grinned.

Catherine looked at him with wide eyes. "The toenail?"

"I just matched the suspect's clippings with the nail from the shoe."

"Wow," Catherine said. She grinned. "He said that he can always tell when they're lying."

"Apparently, he was right. I'm going to radio him to let him know, then I'm headed over to the house for the arrest. You want to come with?"

"No, that's all right," she said. "I'll let you boys handle this one."

Grissom smiled. "I think it's going to be good for you to have another woman on the team."

She gave him an appraising look. "I think I hold my own pretty well."

"Yes, dear, you do," Grissom smiled. He picked up his radio. "Warrick, come in."

* * *

It wasn't until he was standing next to Warrick at the suspect's house, watching the man being led away by the police, that Grissom remembered where Warrick was supposed to be.

"Hey, weren't you supposed to be shadowing Holly?"

"Oh, she's cool. She's doing prints on that 407. There's an officer there."

Grissom opened his mouth to tell Warrick that leaving Holly alone wasn't exactly "shadowing her," but he didn't get a chance. Warrick put his sunglasses back on and left.

Grissom shook his head. If Catherine had been right, it wasn't a good idea to leave Holly alone. He hoped that Warrick was headed back to the crime scene.


	12. The Shock

A/N: Well, this is the end of the line for this story. My intention was always to end it here, before Sara actually makes it to Las Vegas. I plan to write a second story that will detail her time in Vegas. I hope you'll join me for that one, too. I'll be away for the weekend, so I can't promise it being posted until the beginning of June, but I'll do my best to have it up sooner.

Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. I've had a lot of fun writing this story. I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you so much for all your support.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration for this chapter was taken from episodes 101 and 102, "Pilot" and "Cool Change." Some lines are also borrowed from those episodes.

* * *

_The Shock_

"So, how does it feel to be a CSI Level II?"

Sara grinned, even though Mary couldn't see it over the phone. "Great," she replied.

Mary laughed. "That's all you can say?"

"I love this job," Sara laughed. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"I don't know," Mary replied. "I just … I'm glad you like your job."

"I do," Sara confirmed. "How's Tom?"

"Subject change, much?"

Sara laughed. "What? I'm not allowed to ask about your boyfriend? I _am_ the one who brought you two together, you know."

"Yes, I know," Mary replied tolerantly. "He's fine. We're fine."

"I'm glad."

"Are you?"

"Mary!" Sara exclaimed. "Of course I am! I'm very happy for you guys!"

Mary hesitated. "I just …"

"Just what?"

"I feel bad."

"What?" Sara was genuinely confused. "Why do you feel bad?"

"Sara. Are you ever going to start dating?"

"Who do you want me to date?" Sara asked. "My supervisor? I haven't exactly met many guys in San Francisco yet."

"Isn't Carl a little old for you?"

Sara laughed. "He's the same age as Grissom. I was more concerned about the fact that he's my _supervisor_."

"Honey, I'm not trying to be mean, but Grissom always was a little old for you."

"Your brutal honesty never ceases to amaze me. You know, Grissom and I never dated."

"I remember. And, as I recall, we decided ages ago that that was for the best."

"God, Mary, I miss you," Sara sighed, rather than replying to Mary's statement. "I need someone like you to keep me in line. I wish you were coming here for your doctorate."

"I do, too," Mary replied. "But, Middlebury is one of the premiere language schools in the country. Their doctor of modern languages program is so different … How can I turn them down?"

"I know," Sara sighed. "But, it's in Vermont."

"I know," Mary said quietly.

"I just …" Sara trailed off and sighed again. "It would be great to have a friend here."

"What about Carl and Anne?"

"They've been great. I love them both. But … I guess you can't be best friends with the people who train you at work."

"I guess," Mary said noncommittally.

"You don't sound very sure."

"Well, I'm not," Mary replied. "I think you can make a work relationship become friendship. You just have to work at it."

"Maybe I will," Sara said.

"Look, Sara, I've got to go," Mary said, feeling horrible about hanging up on her friend when she was headed into a rather depressed mood. "Tom's going to be here in a minute. He's taking me out for dinner. I'll call you later tonight when I get back home, okay?"

"Okay. I'm off today, so call whenever."

"I will," Mary promised. "I'll talk to you soon."

"All right. Tell Tom hi for me."

"I will."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sara hung up her phone and stared at it for a moment. How could talking to her best friend make her feel so terrible?

"It's because I miss her," Sara sighed. "I miss her and Tom. I miss having friends to go out with."

Sighing again, she reached down for one of the forensic journals on her coffee table. Maybe reading about forensics would cheer her up.

* * *

"Nicky's just come back from his hundredth," Catherine said with a beaming smile.

Grissom grinned back. "Well, shall we tell him?"

"Yes," she said excitedly. "He's in the break room with Warrick."

Grissom frowned slightly as he picked up Nick's new identification. "Isn't Warrick supposed to be with Holly?"

Catherine looked at him with a matching frown. "Holly must be around the lab somewhere. Warrick wouldn't have come back without her."

"Okay," Grissom said.

"We'll ask Warrick where she is," Catherine said. "Come on, Gil. Let's go give Nick his promotion and take him out for breakfast."

"All right."

They left his office together and walked to the break room. As Catherine had promised, Nick and Warrick were sitting together, talking about their newest videogame acquisition.

Grissom proudly presented Nick with his new identification. Nick cheered for himself as the rest of them applauded him. Even Warrick was quick to offer his congratulations.

They were standing up to go out for breakfast together when Brass appeared in the doorway. His grim expression told them that something terrible had happened even before his words confirmed it.

"Holly Gribbs has been shot."

In that moment, their world was shattered.

Brass kept talking, but Grissom barely heard a word of what he said. His mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the fact that Holly, the girl he had defended from a group of dead bodies mere hours before, was clinging to life by a thread.

But, she was. Holly, their newest member, Holly, who was only there because it was what her mother wanted, Holly, who reminded him so much of Sara …

_She's not Sara_, he told himself firmly. Sara was safe in San Francisco. For the first time since she had walked into his office only hours before, he was glad that Holly wasn't Sara. The idea of Sara lying at the brink of death …

He needed a distraction. He looked around at his coworkers. Catherine and Warrick's faces both held the same expression he was sure was on his own: guilty shock. They all, each for his or her own reasons, felt responsible for this girl's shooting. Catherine's eyes slowly filled with tears. Grissom looked away.

He met Nick's eyes. Nick, while just as shocked as the rest of them, looked the most together. Grissom remembered then that Nick had not even met Holly. He would probably be the most detached of all of them in this case.

"Oh, my God," Catherine said as Brass walked away. "This is my fault."

"Cath, you didn't pull the trigger," Nick said quietly.

"I talked her into staying," she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. "She would have given up after that woman went off on her at the convenience store, but I had to go and give her some _pep talk_ …" She trailed off and looked at Grissom. "I was wrong before. You should have gotten that call, not me."

Grissom stared at her. He heard the words; he even understood them. He was just powerless to respond.

"You didn't know, Catherine," Nick said, touching her arm. "Think of how many times you've talked Warrick and me into staying. We're still here."

Catherine looked at him with teary eyes, then buried her head in his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, trying to offer some comfort.

The mention of Warrick's name brought him back into focus for Grissom. He turned to look at the younger man, who was staring back at him in shock.

"I called you away," Grissom said quietly.

Warrick shook his head as though in a daze. "No …" he muttered. "I …" He swallowed. "I never should have left."

"You did as I asked."

"But, before …" He stopped, seeming to think better of his words. "You never asked …" he said instead.

Grissom knew that was true. He had never asked Warrick to meet him at that house, to watch as the man Warrick had always known to be a murderer was taken away. Warrick had come of his own accord. Still, Grissom felt responsible.

He should have thought it through better. He should have watched over her better. He should have been a better supervisor.

And, somehow, the one thing he wanted to do was to call Sara. He just needed to know that she was all right.

"Grissom?"

He looked up as Brass re-entered the room. "Yes?"

"I need you to take a leaper."

A new case? Grissom blinked. How could he leave now?

The answer was easy.

"All right."

He couldn't stay and wait for word on Holly. He couldn't hold a bedside vigil for a woman he had known for less than twelve hours. He knew that he had barely had time to process what had happened when he left to investigate the death of a man who had apparently jumped from a hotel balcony. But, this was what he needed. He needed to do his job. He needed to work. He needed the distraction.

* * *

It wasn't all that much later when he returned to the lab with the body. He knew that he would find his teammates holding vigil in the break room for Holly. He just hoped that he would be able to convince Catherine or Nick to join him on the leaper case. He had some time before he was scheduled to be in autopsy; he decided to find his team and talk to them first.

He walked past the main desk on his way to the break room. "Messages?" he asked the receptionist.

She nodded, and handed him a small stack of message slips. He looked at them in shock, thumbing through them quickly. Every one was from the sheriff. Looking at the receptionist as though she must have made a mistake, he made his way into his office to return the calls. He could talk to his team later.

The phone only rang once before the sheriff answered.

"Hi, Sheriff, it's Gil Grissom," he said in response to the other man's greeting. "I can see that you've been trying to get in touch with me. I'm holding quite a few messages from you."

"That's right, Grissom," the sheriff replied. "We need to talk about your unit."

"Okay," Grissom said slowly, completely at a loss as to where this was going.

"Listen, Grissom, I know that you don't beat around the bush, so I'll get straight to the point. A girl was shot tonight. Her chances for survival are slim. I'm not laying blame, but I do see a need to change the way things are done on the graveyard shift."

"I'm sure some new safeguards can be put into place …"

"I'm not talking about safeguards," the sheriff interrupted. "I'm talking about leadership."

"Leadership?"

"I've already removed Brass as head of the unit," the sheriff said bluntly. "I want you to take over."

"What?"

"I want you to run the unit, Gil. Are you willing to do it?"

He had no time to think, but, really, there was only one viable choice. "Yes – of course – but are you sure?"

"Yes," the sheriff said evenly. "I'm sure."

"Is this a permanent change?" Grissom asked.

"As far as I'm concerned, yes," the sheriff replied. "Gil, I know your work. You've been with us for years. You're one of the best CSIs we have. I wouldn't have asked you to take the unit if I didn't think you could do it. I trust you with this position. I know you can do it."

"But, Brass –"

"Brass does not belong in CSI," the sheriff interrupted. "He proved that last night."

Grissom swallowed. "I'll do my best, Sheriff."

"I know you will. And I know you will have great success."

"Is there anything I should know before I start?"

The sheriff's tone was grim. "Yeah. Make sure no one on your team gets shot."

* * *

Grissom hung up the phone and stared at it in shock. He was in charge of the unit. He had been Brass's second in command for so long, but had never really anticipated getting the supervisor's position – at least, not like this.

He had a thousand decisions to make, but several were very easy. First, he would have to tell the team as honestly as possible that he would be the new supervisor. He knew that Catherine would not be pleased. She had been hoping for that position for years. But, with his promotion she would receive her own. He just hoped she would be happy being his second in command.

His next decision was to uphold the administrative leave that Brass had assigned Warrick. He definitely needed some time to recover from this.

Holly's shooting would fall to his team to investigate. It was easy to choose the CSI responsible for her case: the newly-CSI III Nick. The only one who had no personal connection to Holly was the obvious choice to investigate her shooting.

Finally, they would need someone to replace Holly. Someone with no prior connection to the lab. Someone who could impartially investigate what had gone so horribly wrong.

Again, the choice was easy.

* * *

Sara flipped through the channels, wishing that there was something good on tv. She was bored, and needed a mindless distraction.

Her phone rang, bringing her focus away from the local news. She looked at it with raised eyebrows, surprised that Mary was already home from her date. Hoping that nothing had gone wrong for Mary and Tom, she stretched an arm out to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"Hi. It's Gil Grissom."

"Grissom!" she exclaimed, sitting up a bit straighter. "Hi! How are you?"

"Well …"

"What's wrong?" she asked, fear jumping into her throat.

"I'm fine, if that's what you mean," he said. "But, unfortunately, one of my team isn't."

"What happened?" she asked, feeling the fear grip her heart. She had never met his team, yet, somehow, she felt connected to them.

"I told you about Holly, right?"

"Your new trainee?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Didn't she just start this week?"

"Yeah, yesterday was her first day."

"How did she do?"

"Well … there was an accident."

"What happened?" Sara asked again.

Grissom drew a deep breath. "She was shot at a scene."

"My God," Sara said, her hand clenching in a fist. "Is she all right?"

"They're taking her into surgery."

"That doesn't sound good."

"I wish I could say that you're wrong, but they say that it doesn't look good for her."

"Oh, Griss. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," he said awkwardly. He exhaled. "There's more."

"Tell me."

"Warrick was working with Holly at the time."

"Is he all right?" Sara knew how special Warrick was to Grissom; she didn't want to think about how it would affect him if something were to happen to his protégé.

"He's fine," Grissom said slowly. "The problem is, he wasn't with her when it happened."

"Where was he?"

"That's another issue. I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?"

"I called him away from the scene."

"Why?"

"He had been working another case, but he was removed from it … long story … I took over, and I wanted him to be there when they took the guy away." He paused. "The thing is, it looks like Holly was shot before I called him away."

"So, you're saying that he left of his own accord before you asked him to leave."

"He may have." Grissom sighed. "I forgot about Holly, Sara. When I called Warrick, it never occurred to me that asking him to leave his scene meant that I was asking him to leave her."

"But, you didn't. You just said that he was already gone when you called him."

"Regardless, I didn't think –"

"You cannot blame yourself for this, Grissom," she interrupted. "This is not your fault."

"There are just so many questions, so many pieces of evidence and fact and fiction … I feel like it's all swirling around me and I'll never make sense of it." He drew a deep breath. "There's something else," he said slowly.

"What?"

"Well, with everything that's happened with Holly, the sheriff has made some pretty big changes."

"I guess I can understand that."

"Sara, I've been promoted."

"Promoted?" Sara repeated.

"Yes. I'm running the graveyard shift."

"That's great! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," he said, not sounding the least bit excited about his new position. "I just wish it had happened because Jim _chose_ to leave, rather than because he was forced out."

"Oh. I guess I can understand that."

"With my new position …" He trailed off and paused. "Sara, I need your help."

"What can I do?"

"I don't even know how to say this."

"Just say it," she said, frowning. What would have him so uncertain?

"Sara, I'd like you to come to Las Vegas to help with this investigation. We need to find out where Warrick was, and I want you to be the one to investigate him." He paused. "I don't just want you to help with this investigation," he clarified. "I'd like you to come to work with us in our lab."

She drew her breath in quickly. "You want me to move to Vegas?"

"Yes."

"You want me to work with you in your lab?"

"Yes." He paused. "I'll understand if you can't. It's just … I thought of you immediately when I found out what had happened. I trust you. I know you can do this. I want you to do this. I want you here, working with me." He paused again. When he continued, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I need you."

She didn't hesitate a moment longer. "I'll come."

"You will? You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She was now positively beaming. "I can't wait."

A grin stretched across Grissom's face. Maybe some good would come out of this horrible tragedy. "Neither can I."


End file.
